


Suddenly, you (on hiatus indefinitely)

by Littleseneca



Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
Genre: (this is chapter 8 me speaking btw)., A further note, Angst, Concussions, Dead Dove: Don't Eat, Drug Mentions, Ellie is here now, Fix It, Gore, Hallucinations, I also really needed an outlet during my exams so, I have an exam tomorrow, I just really want my son back, I literally made an AO3 account specifically for this, I need to be nicer to him, I swear, I wrote this whilst I was meant to be doing an essay, I'm just here because valiant hero made me cry, M/M, Major Character Death is only Temporary, Mentions of Dismemberment, Mentions of PTSD, Mentions of Sexual Assult, Multi, Oops I've accidentally made it, Panic Attack, Poor Charles, SO, Time Travel, Torture, Valiant Hero Ending | VH (Henry Stickmin), Vomiting, WOOOOOOO, We reached 30k, also, also I heavily headcanon that Henry is a complete packrat, and i remembered, and its like, and she appeared, and so, anyway, basically a very not fun time, because im like hella projecting, because it will be discussed but it hasn't really been yet, but i also really want to have an excuse to break a man, but it's like consensual, but like, but she decided, consensual torture? But like, dont worry, eh, first charles and now ellie, fleeing the complex again, guess i have to read the bios again lol, hands you chapter 9, henry has a panic attack, i am so simp, i can't actually remember his name, i feel like it should be said outright, i swear its really not all that bad, i swear they were meant to be together before charles died but i kinda forgot about that, i want to be in this, i was gonna include her, i was just playing, i will damn it, im a closet nerd and if i need to self project onto charles, in my other work, it's there if you wanna block the tag, just how pan i am, just that he has five older siblings, just to be clear, like i keep hurting my boys, look - Freeform, lots of it in chap 3, me being very neardy sbout the Mogsby drug dictionary, mention of a character who's last name is Broomstick, mentions of evisceration, mild body horror, no, no one that's dead is underage, not sexual???, post chap 3, slowburn, some in chap 2 but its like barely two sentences, sorry for hurting them so much lol., sorry tho for like, super non healthy now that I'm actually writing this down, talking about first aid, that i learnt 3 yrs ago, the angst tho, uhhh, uuuuuuuuugh, weird huh, what can you do, will be talking about vomit, will include time travel, wow okay, yall will be getting some somft in like chap 7-8, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:00:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25841014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littleseneca/pseuds/Littleseneca
Summary: Henry doesn't take Charles's passing well. He falls into old habits, old cravings, old promises. But the end really isn't the end is it? Not here. Not quite yet.** Will be used to mark triggering stuff mentioned in the tags, sorry[SCREAMS IN BURNOUT]
Relationships: Charles Calvin/Henry Stickmin
Comments: 187
Kudos: 409





	1. Cyclical

Henry Stickmin sat on his bed with a single thought looping around in his head, over and over, not dissimilarly to the last words he ever heard from his childhood friends, never knowing to cherish them, never learning the fleeting nature of everything around him just quite yet.  
_Ad Infinitum._

Something his ancient history had mentioned off hand a few years back, before the heist, before the diamond, before he decided that the path he was on was the one he wanted, _ad infinitum Mr. Stickmin, for forever._

It hadn’t stopped since he heard Charles’s final words, over and over and over, _ad Infinitum, ever renewing,_ that’s what he had wished for hadn’t he? An infinite number of chances, an infinite and consequence-less existence? Where he could steal and never be held accountable, where he could live forever, stealing again and again anything of value? Kind of ironic then, wasn’t it? 

The middle of his room held a schematic disk, stolen from the pod he landed in. He couldn’t stop pulling it up to read the ships plans over and over again, if they had just kept walking through the corridor- or if they had taken a right in the vents- or if they-.

It stopped mattering when all he was left with was a pair of red headphones, not even Charles’s favorites. His bed room table was still filled with the thousands of little nick-nacks he had pick pocketed since that first heist. He knew he still had to organise them, a million dollars or more on that table alone, there were more in the safes, hidden in cardboard cereal boxes, in emptied cans, in the mattress. More money than he knew what to do with. It didn’t matter though, did it? He’d give it all just for a second chance to-

He turned his back to the table, a bitter expression on his face, holding tightly to a glass full of vodka. He’d lost count of how many he had. _ad infinitum, load of good that did._

His neighbor was arguing with his wife again. He never did understand why people were married, his parents never seemed happy in their marriage, always citing Henry as the reason they stayed together, _you need a mother and father Henry, you’ll grow up wrong otherwise Henry, why are you with those people Henry? They’re not right Henry, they’re a bad influence Henry, you’ll become one of those homo-_

His vision went red, glass shattered on the opposite wall and the incessant arguing finally stopped.

It was finally quiet.

The drafts that normally sang through his apartment were nowhere to be found.  
It was dead silent.

_“ Henry!? I thought you were dead!”_

Stop.

_“We make a great team, don’t we?”_

Please.

_“Actually, This calls for some action!”_

His voice was so, so warm. Please stop, I can’t-

_“It’s fine, I’ll find another pod”_

Please please please please-

 _“All according to pl-”_ stop stop Stop Stop STOP IT, MAKE IT STOP PLEASE-

Silence.

It was two am again and Henry’s head was blank. Empty. He couldn’t breathe. He. Couldn’t. Breathe.

 _Ad infinitum,_ he had promised Charles that, hadn’t he? To team up with him forever? To stay with him? _What a fucking joke._

Crescent shaped cuts marred his palm, his nails piercing deeper as he forced his breathing stable, _in for four, hold for six, out for eight, come on Henry_ his school councilors voice came unbidden.

When his head finally fell silent he was greeted to the sun creeping into his room, the floor glittered. He couldn’t find it in himself to care.  
The morning was quiet. Far, far too quiet.

\--

It took till late afternoon for him to grow sober again, there was a cold aching grip around his stomach and though it grumbled irritably he knew he didn’t have the energy to eat today.

He was still waiting on Charles’s social call, even though it had been months since the last one, since _“take a break Mr. Stickmin”_

The break was meant to be over soon, the General knew he owed them nothing, less than even.

He waited for the call, he waited for the inevitable training after, that burn that forced his head blank. Better than the alcohol did anyway. He’d tried drugs in the first month, the meth made him floaty but didn’t stop his _beautiful, soft voice_ from permeating through, acid left him drenched in _soft skin, warm laughter, infinite kindness-,_ molly meant a night’s respite. Silence, though his head rung and his skin felt like a thousand bugs were running under it at any given time, his blood would run hot on it. 

He took more and more as it started to lose its effects, he would have kept going if it didn’t end up with him in the hospital and the General threatening to cut him off from the army permanently. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing that part of Charles too. And so he stopped, he hadn’t fallen that deep into the snake pit anyway.

Even now he craved it, more than water or food, just to drown out that _BANG._

The final seconds before Charles’s favorite headset went silent. _He never did understand loss_ his mother’s giggling voice remarked in his head _he keeps losing his things Mr.Watson!_ He missed her, so very much. She was so much warmer when his father wasn’t home.

Her face flashed through his head again, soft and smiling, then pale and glassy eyed, mouth open wide in a scream as the beams from the truck ahead of them pierced right above her left breast. _The beams weren’t tied correctly your honor_ their lawyer had said at the trial _employee error._

_Ad infinitum. It wasn’t truly infinite, was it?_

The ring startled him out of his head, he brought the receiver to his ear, he didn’t need to, it was on speaker but old habits and all that.

“Mr. Stickmin, we need you back at base at the soonest opportunity, we’ve found the last of the toppats's allies. The Rübins,” There was a second or two of silence, before a shaky breath “we feel you should see this through.” the click as the message ended went unheard by him.

His palm bled again.

He felt a hysterical giggle build at the back of his throat, not that he could voice it, he had screamed himself mute on his way back down to earth. Fitting that he would lose that too, wasn’t it?

He grabbed his car keys on his way out, he’d break in if he needed to later, there wasn’t time to waste.

Thousands of little occurrence’s ran though his head on his way. The miniscule touches as Charles passed him some hot chocolate from his thermos after they saw each other again in the snow. The soft giggles he’d give whenever Henry'd whisper wry commentary on new cadets to him on their way to the General’s. The nights he’d convinced Charles to stay over at his place, the drinking and the stories that came after. The laughter as Charles recalled his time as an officer, before he became a pilot, an agent, the little mischievous things he had given as punishments.

The year they spent working on tiny assignments together before the fucking mission.

It was the longest anyone had stayed, save for his parents. They didn’t stay all that much longer anyway.

For once it didn’t fill him with longing, regret, instead a bit of peace. It felt closer to what he imagined when people described life flashing before their eyes, he wanted more. He should have known better than to ask for more. _Ad infinitum._

Maybe he didn’t need to break his promise after all.

He could stay forever with him, if they were allies of the toppats they were bound to be armed. It wouldn’t take much effort to make a sacrificial play.

Maybe he could have forever, just this once.

\--

The tents were just as tall as he remembered, perfect lines of dirty white and tan tents with clean streets between them, empty. It was the middle of the day, they would be running through drills right about now.

The general’s tent was marked with subtle star shaped embroidery, nothing fancy, simple, single strain lines. Unnoticeable to those who didn’t know what to look for.

None of the officers stopped him, they remembered him from the mission, remembered the broken face of a soldier who’d seen battle a few too many times. 

Henry vaguely wished he had gotten to know Charles’s friends better, had gone to them to apologize and learn more of him. Too little to late he supposed.

The General greeted him with little fanfare, eyes barely glancing up before shooting back down to paperwork as if burned. He didn’t blame him, Henry was quite sure he looked like hell.

“Mr.Stickmin” The General greeted, shifting aside his work with a bare whisper of paper. “you’ve come to answer our call”

Henry’s eyes were blank, he’d long since slipped into autopilot, he’d likely end everyone in this camp if asked. He couldn’t voice the thought though so instead he gave the General a simple nod.

There was a beat.

“Good!... good. Alright,” he pulled out a topograph with a thin grid on it, marked from one till seven and A till D, Henry stepped forward without needing to be asked, startling the General with the cold glint in his eye. The General cleared his throat before pointing to a mountain range “Their main base is about at the base of the apple mountains, we’ve scouted out about twenty confirmed members, maybe as many as forty. A small crew is being sent out to disperse a sleeping agent throughout the ventilation, we need someone skilled to…" he waved his had vaguely "knockout anyone that doesn’t succumb”

The General chanced a glance up, feeling cornered. He’d seen the things Henry had taught Mr.Calvin prior to their mission, even the pen next to his paperwork felt like a danger.  
“So?”

With a silent glance up, Henry nodded to the General. He’d do this, to finally complete the mission that Charles had started then...Well, then came after that, he’d see. It wasn’t worth risking this mission for a sacrificial play.

He guessed that would be _then_

“A-alright. We’ll be Heading out in the morning.” The General tucked the pen neatly between his thumb, fore and middle finger, ready to write “Dinner will be delivered to you at nine, Jacksonn! Take Mr.Stickmin to a tent”

“Yessir!”

Henry didn’t have the energy to fight back against the rest order at that moment. He’d need it all the next day. 

Ten came and left in a flash, he was able to shovel half of his portion before it made him feel sickly, light headed. He laid down.  
He needed this off his conscience.

Maybe it would be like how he dealt with his mother’s passing. Where he went half mad, convinced that he had to sue the company that led to her death blind and then join her before it settled. Before he’d go numb and empty. Before he made the mistake of letting someone else in all over again, because he never did seem to learn the first time. Did he?

He turned away from the tent opening, as though it would let him hide away from his prying thoughts. He felt his eyes drift shut, he’d need the energy.


	2. Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry has a bad time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited this a little, especially in the torture scene.

The sun rose sluggishly, he was up long before then, something he had adapted to when he was much younger. 

He had slipped into the clean fatigues left by the front of the tent, it was better than the alcohol stained shirt of the day before.

He washed his face, neck and hands with practiced motions, habits from when he disappeared off the map for a while. 

A quick glance into a metal sheet was enough to confirm that he looked more put together than the day before.

He had to keep going, just a little further. He could deal with after, later. Charles would have scolded him for procrastinating in that way of his, where it was painfully obvious that the idea of scolding someone made him queazy.

Charles would have done it all the same though, he didn’t become an agent without having a certain level of skill, a level of detachment despite his care.

_“Henry.” Charles turned to him sternly, wearing the enemy's uniform “Henry, no. We’ve gotta go, they’ll get here soon”_

_He didn’t glance up from the bug he had placed on the door, reading the lined of code it transmitted with a practiced eye, shaking his head all the same._

_“Henry, this isn’t a joke. We had a mole, we’ve gotta go before-” The heavy steel door clanged behind them as what he assumed to be a person rammed into it “fuck, okay, bit late for that. Okay, look, I’ve got an idea and you’re not gonna like it”_

_Henry glanced up, shooting him a puzzled head tilt. He watched Charles take a deep breath.  
“okay, they’ve only recognized you so-” the door slammed open and Henry hit the ground with a meaty thud. His hand wretched behind him, he almost bucked before it hit him. _

_He had to play victim.  
Something cold settled in his chest, he knew the rules intimately._

_“I’ve got him sir!” he heard Charles voice call proudly to the -presumably- man that walked through the door, Henry made a show of struggling, kicking lightly at Charles, he felt his hand pin his neck to the ground._

_“Stay down.” Charles's voice was stern, much lower than he expected. Henry really hoped he wouldn’t read too far into how fast his heart was beating._

_“well done! I’ve been after that rat for a while!” Jack Tundra, the person they were meant to assassinate, cheerfully said “good! Bring him down to the dungeons.”_

_Henry felt Charles’s palms grow sweaty, clenching, it was the closest to a flinch Charles could afford, the persona didn’t drop “Of course sir!”_

_Henry was unceremoniously hauled off the floor, cuffed and shoved forward onto unstable legs and into the centre of a convoy. Surrounded by enemies._

_“Move it.” Charles’s voice had a cold edge, Henry looked back at him for assurance and was met with hard eyes. He swallowed and moved forward with little complaint, forcing himself to tense so as to look more frightened._

_Henry found himself unceremoniously shoved into a steel chair, chained down by four of the lackeys, and then left to shiver. The room looked far too similar to a police interrogation room._

_“good” Tundra said, entirely too pleased giving a pat on the back to one of the lackeys as they walked single file out of the room._

_“Won’t you do the honours?” he asked, passing a dagger to Charles, turning before he caught the way he paled. “I want answers in the next hour. Understood?”_

_Charles have him a confident look that Henry was damn sure he wasn’t feeling “Of course sir!”  
Tundra slammed the door behind him._

_There was a mirror in the room, both knew it was single sided, the room wasn't unlikely to be bugged. They were being watched. He watched Charles take a deep breath, fall into the persona._

_“Name.” Charles hardened his expression, slipping the dagger into a reverse grip, closing the gap between them with confident strides._

_“Henry.” The dagger lodged into the metal between his right pinky and ring finger._

_“Try again.”_

_“H-Henry Stickmin”_

_“Good” he replied softly, giving Henry a warm smile. His eyes were red at the edges, stress. Henry wished that he could ask if Charles was okay._

_“Who do you work for?” Henry flinches, Charles’s mask doesn't drop. Oh._

_“don’t make me ask again Mr.Stickmin."_

_Henry turned his face away, bracing._

** 

_The dagger was too sharp to feel when exactly it sliced into the back of his hand, the cold air however introduced an icy burn. It wasn’t deep, it didn’t need to be._

_“Who do you work for Mr. Stickmin?” He didn’t falter._

_“No one, no one.” He swallowed, looking Charles in the eye, apologizing. He wasn't quite sure for what exactly. “I came alone”_

_He watched Charles sigh, faux annoyed. The web between his thumb and forefinger spit under the quick strike, the dagger was buried into the steel. He bit back a whimper, he knew that Charles hated every second already._

_“You came with a friend, didn’t you” Henry shook his head, he found Charles’s iron grip against his jaw, forcing his head to stay still. “What was his name, Henry?”_

_“I-I don’t-”_

_He felt the dagger split the skin between his left thumb and forefinger. Non permanent injuries. Still hurt like hell._

_He felt Charles shove his head back, an irritated look on his face, barely masking his trembling lips._

_“Fine," it was almost choked "what were you here for then?”_

_“The jewelry” he replied quietly, eyes on the blade. Charles clicked his tongue._

_The dagger split the steel between his arm and the edge of the armrest._

_Henry backtracked “Schematics, I was here for-”_

_A slice across the back of his left arm._

** 

_“we can keep going Henry”_

_“I-I-”_

_“I’m not mad at you for trying to do it Henry” Charles’s eyes narrowed. He leaned close, his face almost touching Henry, lips only a breath away from touching his ear. “I’m mad that you’re trying to lie” it was quiet, whisking right over the shell of his ear, shaky._

_"I wasn't told that we needed you alive after the hour, Henry." Charles leaned back, searching his eyes, watching for an unspoken withdrawal of consent. Not that he'd be able to stop if Henry couldn't bare anymore._

_The door opened behind them and Charles quickly placed the tip of the blade over his clothed abdomen. Henry closed his eyes._

_“Oi,” someone called from the door “boss says you’re being too rough" she scoffed, as if the idea was ridiculous to her "get out.”_

_Charles pouted, Henry was able to read relief “And here I was having fun” it was petulant enough to break the spell._

The next gal who tortured him after didn’t do much more than kick him a few times before she was called off for an emergency.

Charles had completed the mission on his own in the end. They didn’t really talk about it after, Henry didn’t blame him, he could hardly meet Charles's eyes and likewise Charles avoided using knives where possible. It was far too tempting to request that certain moments be repeated in a distinctly... Unprofessional manner. 

_the thought of Charles holding his hands to the small of his back and forcing his face into pillows and then-_ that's enough. 

Henry's desires made him feel distinctly guilty, especially since Charles clearly had hated the thought of hurting him in any way. Henry hated the heat that would build up in his stomach around Charles. 

Charles did mother hen incessantly him through his recovery though.

“Mr. Stickmin?” a foreign voice called, snapping him out of his trance. He stuck his head out the tent. “Sir, we’re leaving in an hour, all your gear has been prepared” Henry gave him an encouraging nod “we’re at airfield four”

The soldier headed off with little sentiment lost. It was mutual. 

Henry mentally shrugged and headed down to the airfield, his eyes were immediately drawn to a beaten helicopter _“she’s a beauty isn’t she?”_  
He shook his head, trying to snap himself out of it, no matter how tempting it was to simply wallow for a while.

He arrived to a group of four chatting amongst each other with great abandon and his chest ached a second, two, before it fell back to its comfortable numbness. He didn’t glance at them when their conversation stopped.

Eventually they continued, giving him the same courtesy he had given them.

The sun rose a little further, the shadows read 'seven am' when a person in fatigues much the same as his, darker than the other four, came into the field, causing the four to stop conversation to stand at attention.

“Mr. Stickmin, recruits.” He greeted “recruits , you’ll be with me. We’ll be spreading the agent throughout the ventilation system primarily in sector 1 and 7, Mr. Stickmin, you will be covering everyone that isn’t unconscious. Understood?”

“yes sir” the group of four-recruits apparently, replied, excited. His mind shot back to vibrant red headphones before he shut that thought away again. Not now.

The officer handed him a gas mask, an intimidating thing which covered the entirety of his face in a black visor, it was heavy, bullet resistant. He was handed a can of the agent spray, though he would have much preferred a bat or a combat knife. He needed an outlet.

The exercise would just have to do.

The helicopter they piloted was near silent, moving with the swiftness of a fly. It buzzed incessantly, Henry found himself wearing his mask long before they touched down to escape it.

The helicopter stopped a stone’s toss from the base, in vibrant bush, waist high cattails waved as they touched down. He felt the ridiculous urge to wave back.

“we’ll be splitting up, cadets Anderson and Naz, you’ll be entering through the left most gate, Sahi and Johnovich you’ll be going through the tunnels, I’ll be flanking the right and Mr.Stickmin-” he paused as he noticed the helmet, puzzled for a second before continuing “We’ll open the gates from the inside, please enter the first one that opens” Henry gave them a nod before sitting back down on his seat. It wasn’t as soft as- stop. No more.

The cadets and the officer left uncomfortably, noticing his lack of speech and likely misinterpreting it. It didn’t matter to him, he’d already shut down. His goal was simple, arrest them.

And so he sat there as the sun went down, paying careful attention to the radio should they call in for emergency report. The sun rose, the shadows shortened and birds chirped in the trees. Henry’s blank eyes traced them all impassively.

“RED! RED! HELP-” one of the cadets called before a static. He waited for a few seconds for a reply from one of the others but nothing. Radio silence.

He turned on the radio transmission, tapping the mic twice. No response. He sighed, of course.  
He slipped out of the helicopter, swift and silent, slipping into the tunnels with little fanfare. He mildly climbed into a corridor through a ceiling vent, his feet touching the floor soundlessly. The room was filled with unconscious figures, the gas had worked it seemed. Why the distress call then?

He put his head to the door, listening for footsteps. Nothing. Clear.

The door swung open without a sound, oiled, nice. The room was also filled with unconscious bodies, odd, he’d already counted twenty- 

He ducked out of instinct, barely avoiding the sledgehammer that slammed into the wall next to him, he jumped back, falling into a roll.

His head whipped back to see an absolutely massive creature, something like a monster from a Slasher film. Wearing a mask.

Shit.

He bolted back into the corridor, slamming the door behind him. 

Fuck, okay weapon, he needed a weapon. One of them had a gun, thank goodness-

The door shattered under the force of the sledgehammer, _okay so the weapon was a no go_

He bolted down the corridor taking a wild turn as thundering footsteps bit at his ankles. A mantra of _fuckfuckfuck_ running through his head as he scanned everything for a weapon just close enough for him to grasp. He took a sharp turn into a closet, slamming the door and locking it behind him.

A breath of silence before- the wood of the door shattered in and-

Vent!

He scrambled up, tearing away the cover just as the thing slammed the sledgehammer into the door a second time. 

He made it just far enough to avoid the sharp denting just at his feet as that terrifying creature took its anger out on the vents.

Henry didn’t stop crawling till he was sure he was a few hundred meters away. 

He took a second to slow his rabbiting heart.

**BANG**

Just in front of him, the vent warps up, folding like a piece of paper and trapping a whisp of his hair, barely glancing the tip of his nose. He holds his breath, listening to the angry huffing of the creature. He hears it leave the room before risking moving. That could have so easily crushed his skull.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat as he climbs quietly out of the vents, scanning the room thoroughly before letting out a sigh of relief.

He thanked the stars as his eyes landed on an unconscious goon, a shotgun next to her. 

He loaded it, pausing for a second to make sure it wasn’t heard before properly cocking it.

\--

He had wondered through the corridors for a good few minutes before he found anything of interest.

He found his team leader, or, well, what was left. He winced in sympathy at the sunken ribcage of the Captain. What a horrible way to go.

He heard footsteps, he ducked behind a doorway.

There it was.

**

He watched it crack it’s knuckles, it lifted up the captain by the hair, using the hammer to break the bones in his neck before nocking everything from the neck down off. 

**

Henry felt his throat grow dry from nausea. 

The thing turned around, he took his chance.

**BANG**

There was a beat of silence as he watched the thing pause, and turn its head to him. He stayed deathly still.

It fell forward.

There was a moment he felt triumph before it hit him. 

Where were the cadets?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that satisfies Coelpts.  
> Anyway, on a more serious note, I likely will be updating sporadically once or twice a week, maybe less, maybe more. I am but an instrument to my muses.
> 
> Feel free to comment ideas, as I'll probably find a way to incorporate em yo!


	3. Into the depths of labbness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, i really indulged my inner slasher lover, didn't i?
> 
> *Includes a graphic description of a mercy kill and a lot of medical horror. Beware.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise in advance.
> 
> ** To mark more mild medical gore
> 
> ***  
> ** To mark the more stomach stirring stuff

The corridors were wide, soulless things now that he had the time to calmly pass through them. White with a finger width line of pale blue right in the center _They’re called accents Henry!_ one of his exes, a woman that he had broken up with just after highschool. He hadn’t thought of her in years.

He quietly pockets a watch from one of the goons, a gold one. He could tell by the weight, he takes the extra second to take also the pocket knife with the handle made of mother of pearl.

He lets the shotgun fall to his side, keeping a white knuckled grip on it’s handle, putting a pilfered pocket knife into his pocket, passing by doors as silently as he could, reading each of the silver and black plaques on them.

Cleaner’s cabinet, office, office, office, bathroom, office, ventilation room, office-  
Ventilation room?

He back tracks, it couldn’t be that convenient right?

He shakes his head and opens the door slowly, cringing as it screeched at his intrusion. The room itself was a massive air conditioner connected to twenty or so crawlspace worthy vents, each labeled by the rooms it lead to. It had been turned off by the time he had arrived, likely by the passed out goon next to its control center.

He reads the buttons, skimming over until he reads _timed ventilation_ , perfect. 

Pushing the button brings up a menu screen, 

_[time start:]  
[Time end:]  
[Reset]  
[Manual override]  
_

He could work with that. He clicks manual override.

_[enter employee number and ID number]_

It really was that easy, huh. He mildly plucks the badge off the passed out employee and enters the numbers with swift fingers.

_[starting time:___]_

He glanced down at his watch, 12:30, and entered 12:45.

_[end time:___]_

He entered an arbitrary time a week from then, the mission was only meant to last two days at most, scouts would be sent in on the third, hence it was a non issue.

A counter started up, showing he had fourteen minutes, plenty. The input-tube-from-outside's panels opened with little force and, he popped in his can, stabbing it in the side with the opalescent handled blade and shutting the panel before it had a chance to shower him with shrapnel. One can left.

The ventilation system read _ten minutes remaining_ . His eyes scanned over the vent that read _{R:07}_ , a surveillance room he guessed, as right after it was _{fuse cupboard}_

 _“Its like they don’t even try to hide it Henry!”_ Charles’s indignant voice complained. He had had quite a bit to drink that day.

He shook his head, trying to clear it of the barrage it was suddenly pelted with. That mission was a damn disaster, the helicopter was spotted and one of the blades snapped under fire, then they crashed into a swamp and had to do the rest by foot. Not pleasant at the very least, especially since there happened to be robot piranhas in every second puddle which was… delightful.

The panel opens with a click he felt more than he heard, he pops in, closing the panel behind him. Air wasn’t much an issue, especially with the filter.

It takes only a few minutes to find himself slipping out a vent, just in time for the ventilation system to switch on with a dull thrum. 

The camera room was manned by an unconscious body, slumped across the armchair at an angle that made him wince in sympathy. 

He gently rearranges them on the floor, more for his own peace of mind than anything else.  
He flicks through the footage, switching cameras with button presses. 

He reaches R:68, from where he sees the entrance the left side set of cadets must have taken, he flicks through the feeds of the following room and finds odd traces of what he assumes to be blood, the Captain’s face flashes against the back of his eyelids and he winces.

Thankfully, the feeds give him an idea enough of his placements to be able to make it there on foot.

The goon on the floor gives a weak groan which earns them a swift spray of the sedative agent directly to the face, they head right back into Dreamland from whence they came.

-

(HEY! here's where the really bad gore stuff starts, you can skip this!!! Will not really effect story, but will cause trauma to Henry!!!)

The walk there was surprisingly short, the compound itself was rather small actually, each room and office no bigger than four meters squared, usually a little smaller. Rushed construction? It would definitely explain the odd unpainted rooms with concrete walls.

He takes a final left and finds himself gagging. 

**  
Corpses, piled just under the cameras so that they’d be invisible, another sign of rushed construction, he thought disturbed. 

Each corpse had a specific feature missing, some missing teeth, others eyes, more still entire ribs and limbs, and each and every single one had atleast a single dislocated limb.   
**

It brought to mind the way one prepared a chicken, dislocate the limbs and cut across the top of the bone. The skin was left untouched, unbruised.

He forced his eyes off to focus more on the thin blue line on the opposite wall, finding it abruptly cut off with a smear of blood that far too closely resembled a hand print.

There was a hand gun just far enough away from the bodies that he didn’t have to risk looking up at them. Six bullets, one under a full clip. He slipped the nozzle into one of his belt loops.

**  
He felt a cold hand grip his stomach from the inside when he saw another one of the goons, barely legal, each and every rib was missing, as though dissolved from the inside, a mess of red around his lips, gore and blood alike.

 _the ribs were removed via the esophagus_   
**

He gagged at the thought, it took more effort than he’d ever admit to, to step over the _child’s_ body. He still had to focus on the cadets, that didn’t mean that his guard didn’t fly up. He hoped it had been the monster he had shot a half hour prior.

A hand shot out from under the pile of corpses, clutching his pants leg, he needed to get it off-  
“ple-ase make it stop” a tiny woman asked, raspy and choaked. 

***  
**  
She was close to screaming herself raw, clutching her intestines as they slipped through a slit that split her hip to hip.   
**  
***

There was a dull red trail behind her, stretching out to five times her body length. 

She was past the point of saving.

**  
He didn’t hesitate, pulling out the hand gun and pushing in a bullet through her eye. Quick and painless.  
**

She dropped to the floor, limp and the feeling of nausea increased. Enough so that he was tempted to pull off the mask and-  
No.   
Cadets.   
Keep going.  
Five bullets.  
The gun slips back into the belt loop. He keeps walking.

Thankfully, none of the doors he opens contains the same level of gore, nothing more than the odd unconscious body. There were definitely more than fourty.

He walks past R:57, finding himself in the labs, only a stone’s toss from where the left hand team had entered. 

There wasn’t surveillance in these areas.  
He entered a room, significantly larger than the offices, empty, full of what looked to be vials of culture, vibrant pink berries, meat scaffolded onto hollowed fruit at the cellular level. 

_“yeah! They empty out things like fruit with detergents to use the cellulose as scaffolding. Then they inoculate it with tissues from meat or something else, it's way more complicated but whatever, that’s how they make things like replacement organs nowadays!”_ Charles’s tipsy voice proclaims.

He’d have revelled in this. Things this technical had always flown right over Henry’s head.

A faint moan from the back of the room startled him out of his thoughts. He palmed the hand gun, enjoyed the comforting weight of the shot gun on his back and wandered into what seemed to be a storage room.

Naz. he was chained to a chair, hands and ankles restrained, a belt clenched around his stomach. Eyes fever bright.

**  
A drip was attached to the inside of his elbow, dripping a vibrant blue liquid into his veins.   
Henry closed the valve on the drip, pulling it out of Naz's elbow swiftly, who gave a weak groan.   
**

The chains were held together with generic pad locks, child’s play. 

Henry shook Naz's shoulder, snapping his fingers under his nose to provoke a reaction. It took till the fifth snap before Naz weakly glanced up at him, leaning into Henry as soon as he realized that he was with friendly company. Odd.

He gently presses his shoulder into Naz's armpit, pulling Naz’s arm over his shoulder and pulling his almost limp body into what resembled standing. Naz seemed to be drugged with something, Henry hoped it wouldn’t kill him. It was far too much paperwork.

Henry starts walking, and even with three months hiatus, he had more than enough strength to guide both of them through the corridors. Henry hoped vaguely that Anderson was still alive, She’d been the brightest of the bunch as he’d observed prior to the mission.  
He guided them into the next lab, and-

Oh.

**  
There she was. Her chest spread out, ribs split and a masked man(?) Leaning over her to poke at her still beating heart. Henry guessed that’s why Naz had been drugged.  
**

He noticed that she was connected to a life support system, not likely to die any time soon, if the readings off the chart were what they thought they were.

***  
**  
Henry watched the masked creature pull Anderson’s rib through her mouth. He took the safety off his gun and shot a bullet right through its throat.  
**  
***

(HEY!!! heres where it ends :), from here the events will be covered in a less... Horrible way)

Naz's mask flies off as he empty's his stomach onto the floor, slumping a second after, the sedative agent seemed a blessing. Henry catches him and places him on one of the metal tables, using his now free hand to check how many bullets he had.

Four.

He notes the room number, Lab:8 and walks out of the room unperturbed. He couldn’t find it in himself to notice much more than the fact of the matter. He needed to find a place where he might contact their handler, the mission control sector itself.

\--

He finds a room a while later, next to the camera room, filled to the brim with intricate machinery that he couldn’t hope to understand the mechanics of. He squints at two gun shaped objects, a teleporter? And a… the writing on its side was significantly blurred, likely by fingers rubbing across the label a shrimp ray?

He shrugged, it wasn’t his place to judge what bored scientists did in their spare time. He pokes it nonetheless, curious.

The center of the room seems to catch alight, vibrant Aurora erupts from it with force enough to knock him on his ass. The room fell back to its dim lighting.

The hell was that?

He shakes his head, not the time for those questions yet, it could wait. The leftmost corner of the room, the only part that didn’t have atleast a small heap of mechanical parts, if not whole inventions which reminded him of a few creepypasta's he had read a long time ago.

And in that corner, what looked to be a smartphone. He almost chuckles, it seemed that fate was smiling down on him today.

He quickly factory reset it, silently apologizing to whoever owned it and hoping they had the forethought to copy its info onto a USB or something.

He entered the number and opened a new dialogue page.

 _[majority of team is dead, significantly more than fourty members. Cadet Naz in sector 7D in a lab, Anderson possibly dead, Captain definitely eliminated, unknown on others. Sedation almost entirely effective]_

The reply was almost instantaneous.

_[unaccounted errors?]_

_[guard, wearing mask, eliminated captain. Was required to remove threat. Further casualties include other Rübins members, experimentation from their staff on members. Anderson was operated on but is currently on life support, Naz was sedated. Cadets Sahi and Johnovich unaccounted for]_

_[reinforcements in two hours, meeting at north gate. Return to base at earliest opportunity]_

He wiped the phone again, throwing it onto the counter with little regard. He started towards the door, the portal. The image wouldn't leave his head.

The light had felt so intimately familiar, homely. He was tempted to turn it on again.

Well...

A minute couldn’t hurt.

The portal itself had a fool proof design, a green button for on and a red for off. Simple. Henry felt like doubting it before he realized that it mattered little anyway, who would he have to confide his worries in afterall? 

He pressed the dull green button and-  
An eruption of sound, a thousand voices of varying tones, panic mixed with lust, joy with stilted sorrow, and it narrowed and narrowed till it settled on a single voice, a single face. Vibrant red headphones and-

_“Henry! no, no, No, HELP!”_


	4. Rest, in the arms of a phantom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Me? Self projecting my trauma, bad coping mechanisms and hallucinations onto Henry? Nooooo, don't be ridiculous!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hurt myself writing this, owwie.

Henry doesn’t take the time to consider his actions before he’s leaping into the portal with the conviction of a dying man chasing his last chance at salvation.

There’s a distinct sensation of being ripped limb from limb for a split second, a vibrant pain behind his eyelids as his vision blackens before abruptly brightening enough to blind him, there is no longer an addiction borne ache in his bones.

His feet hit snow, he stumbles. 

The few seconds of consideration he should have taken at the sudden biting cold and the feeling of flax on his skin as opposed to the industrial, stiff cotton of his uniform is stolen by rapid footsteps ahead of him.

Everything in Henry screams to give chase, desperate to follow the phantom, and so his feet hit the ground harshly, he stumbles through icy white after figures in black, relentless until- 

There’s a sharp sound, a teleporter, and the person he was chasing turns to look at him with a cold triumphant grin, holding up a large gem that he hadn’t noticed in his chase, before he disappears to wherever he was going, the realization digs into his chest. _that wasn’t Charles_ .

He hears faint, approaching, pattering footsteps just to his side, a few meters away and stares at the spot they disappeared from and felt his shoulders shake, he wasn’t quite sure if it was mirthless laughter or a sob, he felt the last of his conviction drain from him as his knees hit the floor with a harsh thud. 

He notices that his pants are black, tighter than the navy blue slacks he was wearing, if it registers in his despondent mind as anything suspicious, he doesn’t act on it.

_he should have known better than to hope for more._

He hears a harsh puffing, out of breath, just past his sightline as the footsteps stop. He registers red from the corner of his eyes but dares not raise his eyes from his lap, noticing his face was wet only when a drop falls from his cheek onto his lap. 

His face falls into his hands, hiding it away so that he may not face death as it takes him.

There is silence a moment, nothing more than howling wind, broken up by the odd light branch being broken off from the nearby forests, even though forest was a generous word for how few trees there truly were.

“Henry?” he hears a _warm, gentle, wonderful, beautiful_ , hesitant voice ask from above him, still a distance away “Is that you?” 

Henry’s eyes hesitantly pan up, puffy and red, and he stares in disbelief, stumbling onto his feet and rushing towards _Charles, oh gods, is that really-_

Charles stumbles back and Henry freezes, only an arms length away, it would be so easy to-

No, no, no.

If he touched Charles now, the dream would be over. He’d wake up again to a world without- no, no, no, no, no.

The thought was unbearable, it tore at his sides and he wished he had something to split his stomach open to release the swarm of wasps that stung at the tissue in there and- _“ple-ase make it stop”_ he flinches back as her hazel eyes replace Charles’s.

“Henry? You’re kinda freaking me out dude” 

Charles takes a step back and- oh gods he didn’t want him anymore. Had he learned of Henry’s lo- no, of course Charles wouldn’t want him, he hadn’t been fast enough, clever enough, wanted too much, why would Charles want him?

Charles hadn’t wanted him in his other dreams, had he? No, it would always change, screams of anger and hatred as Charles threw glass bottles at him, cold eyes as he’d bring the glass to his abdomen just like the dagger on that steel chair and-

“Are you okay?” Henry reads worry. He just made everything worse didn’t he- 

NO-

Henry flinches back as Charles reaches for him, he wasn’t about to wake up again, he needed more time, he needed- he catches Charles’s panicked expression before he turns and runs into the tree line.

“Henry? Henry!” he hears footsteps behind him and cold panic grips his heart with force enough to force it to skip a few beats, a stuttering and uneven pattern as he jumps over fallen logs, ducks under low branches, slides under brush and-

“Henry wait!” and Charles was gaining on him, he didn’t want this to end, he needed this, it had been so long since he’d heard Charles’s voice echoing through his mind with this clarity.

He scrambles between two or so fallen logs and finds himself trapped, he turns sharply in that tiny space, the bark grabbing his shirt and tearing it open from his floating ribs to his collar bone, leaving no space for him when he tries to back away from him.

Henry’s vision blurs as he takes his head in his hands, covering his ears and beginning to rock back and forth, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, couldn’tbreathe, couldn’tbreathebreathebreathe.

\--

Charles watches Henry snap apart with shaking hands, flinching as Henry’s fingers draw blood from his scalp as they dug further in, a panic attack. Just what had happened in the half year since his last mission with Henry?

“hey,” Charles calls softly, it causes the whimpering to quieten from Henry, instead Henry begins to mutter something under his breath about schematics, about dreams, and then a mantra of apologies. He felt a lump in his throat.

“Hey,” Charles repeats, softly “I’m going to need you to listen to me, okay?” his voice warms a little more _don’t let him see you as threatening_ .

Charles’s heart seizes as dark eyes glance up at his with guilt, hope and fear on bright display.

“do you think you can take your hands off your face please?” as soon as he finishes, Henry’s hands fly off his face, dragging away chunks of his face and forcing them to peel back from the speed with which he withdrew nails from skin. 

Charles felt himself fall into a sort of 'mission mode' as he realized that Henry wouldn’t able to bring himself down in the state he was in _severe emotional distress, loss of a loved one?_ he speculated, that wouldn’t explain the reaction he had to Charles initially.

“Do you think you can breathe for me?” Henry nods vigorously, breathing deeply and quickly, as though desperate to please _abuse?_ “hey,” he said softly and Henry’s eyes shoot right up to him, looking desperately for guidance. 

“breathe with me, okay?” Henry nods

“in”

Charles holds his breath for a moment and watches carefully as Henry copies him obediently.

“And out” Henry’s breath leaves in a rush.

“And in” he holds his breath again, edging closer.  
Henry doesn’t flinch back, too lost in obeying to even consider himself at that moment.

“and out” Henry’s breath comes out softer, quieter as he continues the process, watching Charles’s chest as it raises and falls and-

A hand on his knee.

He doesn’t wake up.

Hesitantly Henry brings his hand to Charles’s, placing his palm gently over the back of his hand. Only then does he notice that the web between his thumb and pointer is free of a thin line, missing the tension of scarred skin, unmarred when it had been a silvery pink only a half hour ago.

_Did I die?_

He feels his breathing slow and Charles began to loosen his shoulders as Henry began to come back to himself a bit. Henry stares in disbelief.

Charles headphones had migrated to his shoulders, he was wearing a loose bomber jacket and navy blue slacks in military cotton, kneeling on the floor and resting his forehead on the log in front of him. _Is this heaven?_

Charles felt himself shift in discomfort under the intense scrutiny, it felt similar to being observed under a microscope, each and every blemish in neon display. Henry seemed dazed to Charles, lost and quiet, and Charles didn’t quite know how to respond. He’d only been with Henry on maybe two missions, each lasting a day at the most. Charles had known him long enough to care, but nowhere near enough to know how to help him.

Henry, now with a clearer head, begins to recognize the difference between the Charles he saw a few months ago, this one was missing the nick on his jaw from the robot piranhas, missing the scar on his wrist from the helicopter collapsing in on him when their wings were clipped by heavy fire, Charles was missing each and every little wrinkle that he had gained over the year they worked together. Charles was missing the warmth in his eyes.

He feels his eyes fill again, Charles didn’t want him.

Charles's heart seizes in panic as Henry’s tears start a new “heyheyhey, its okay! We’ll get that gem back! They can’t have gone too- oof!”

Charles’s back hits soft snow and his right shoulder grows wet, there are arms around his waist.

“Im sorry, I’msorry, imsosorry, I should have been quicker, I should have read the schematics better, I should have been the onestuckintheship, imsorry-”

“Woah! Hey, it’s fine! Plus, it’s been a year dude!”

Henry pauses at that, “a year?”

“yeah?” Charles was perplexed “We went into the Toppats’s ship, remember?”

Charles feels Henry tense at the organizations name, he feels an immediate spike of alarm at the response _did the Toppats’s torture him?_ . It would expain the break and the flinching, they were notorious for using disguise’s to torture prisoners.

Henry slumped against him, Charles sat up, pushing Henry into a straddle as he pushed Henry back enough to give him a once over. His face was bleeding, there were scars he didn’t recognize on his collar bone, barely visible under the threadbare shirt Henry was wearing, his clothes were a size or two too small, had they been stolen?

Was that why he was trying to get to the gem? 

To sell it and pay off his bounty? 

A cold shiver ran down Charles spine and his fingers dug into Henry’s side as cold anger rushed through him. He took a deep breath, his priority now was to get Henry to safety.

Henry scrambles back, off his back and looks up at him with terrified eyes, pupils constricted. “I-I’m sorry” he says barely above a whisper “I-I didn’t mean to get so-”

“Its okay, you don’t need to apologise to me at all, okay?”

Henry gives a mirthless laugh “Yeah, its just… people don’t usually come back. Not that I blame them really”

Henry didn’t want to wake up at all, be this death or a dream, he didn’t want to wake up.

Henry rises to his knees, placing his hand on the log he begins to stand. Charles grabs his hand, red under his fingernails, shifting his hold so he clenched Henry’s wrist, he couldn’t let this guy walk into the snow wearing something thinner than his pyjamas, not when there was a chance that Henry wouldn’t make it out alive. Especially when he found this guy pleasant enough company.

“I’m heading back to base” Charles says softly, pulling henry back down to his straddle “There’s space enough for two, if you want to come with”

Henry watches him like he’s some kind of exotic creature, scanning him over to see the slightest bit of deception, when he found none, Henry gave a hesitant nod.

Charles slips out from under Henry, standing before pulling Henry up too, not letting his wrist go at all. Though he didn’t have a vice grip, it was damn close.

Charles follows their footsteps back to the clearing, Henry pauses a second, staring at the spot the goons had disappeared before falling back in time with Charles. Henry, unbeknownst to Charles, felt like he was floating, all his worries gone. He wondered if he’d been drugged, it felt awful close to molly, save his skin being comfortingly cool and without an itch at all.

He had to be, by this point in his dreams Charles would have slammed his head into a doorway, blaming him for his weakness, for not being quick enough. 

His eyes wetten again, the only reason the water doesn’t drop is that his eyes are puffy enough to cage it, his face is bleeding. He only notices it when a soft whisper of air chills the open nerves, how’d that happen?

Charles had already assumed that Henry was still likely drugged with something, something that destabilized his mood. He didn’t know his drugs well enough to identify what, but he guessed it was a mild psychotic with maybe a sedative? He’d been meaning to read his copy of Mogsby for a while now, atleast he had an excuse now.

He watches Henry’s face drop, tears build in his eyes and though it pains him, he turns away. He knew damn well that he didn’t know much more than basic shock treatment, having never had the need as he ran mostly solo reconnaissance.

Henry’s head played cruel tricks on him, by the time he had sighted the sight of the helicopter, a beaten up navy green machine with equally beaten wings, his head had replayed the moment just before the pod dropped a hundred times and _concave chest, hole through the neck, chest wide open, beating heart, a child, he was barely older than eighteen, gore on his lips, his eyes the same color as Charles’s, god what if Charles ended up like-_

“Henry.” His eyes panned up from where he was staring at his feet “would you like some hot chocolate? I have some left over from the flight.”

Henry feels himself nod before he really understands the question, he finds himself herded into the passenger seat and handed a thermos cup full of steaming milk and chocolate. He takes a hesitant sip, waiting for Charles’s face to grow cold and for the liquid to be poured over his hands, scalding him _these hands were worthless, you did nothing to save me Henry!_

Charles watches him carefully sip at it, as though it would be torn away if he had too much and his heart clenches. He wants to reach out and bundle this aching creature, but he knows that it would be unwelcome, he didn’t truly know Henry and they’d clearly used his image to do unspeakable things to him.

The empty cup was handed back to Charles with shaky hands, and Charles gave Henry an encouraging smile. Henry seemed to relax a little.

“Hey” Charles whispered softly “there’s a blanket in the holdings above you, is it okay if I get it?”

Henry nods shakily, he flinches all the same when Charles takes a swift step forward _cold steel at his back-_ and… a warm blanket over his shoulders?

He glances at Charles cautiously, watching for the slightest movement before carefully wrapping himself completely. Charles hands him a pair of red earmuffs, thicker than his headphones, without touching him.

He slips them on with little complaint, Charles mimes closing his belt and so Henry clicks his around his waist, adjusting it to be tight enough to hold him should they crash. _a silent explosion_ he flinches.

Charles reaches back up to the compartment, pulling out a feild first aid box, opening it on the dashboard. 

"I need to clean up your cuts, is that okay?" Henry gives a mute nod, tensing as Charles approached. There was a second of pause before Henry felt gentle fingertips tilt his head to the side and apply a stinging paste to the side of his head. 

Charles pushes the chunks of loose flesh back into place, some too uneven to fit neatly. Thankfully all of the wounds were just under his hair line and just above his forehead, the scars would be easy enough to hide. 

Charles finishes up and packs the disinfect back into the case, pulling sterile gauze instead to wrap around Henry's head. Charles watches as Henry grows more and more relaxed at every gentle touch and pins, cautiously, the bandage to itself. 

The box is shoved right back into its compartment and Charles takes his seat at the helm, clicking closed his seatbelt and begins his preflight routine. 

Charles primes the helicopter, checking over the fuel gauge and temperature gauge, making sure that his sea level indicator and radar were all in order, having to make a quick few tweaks to his set up before he could ready the helicopter for flight.

“Hey, Henry, we’re taking-” oh, it appeared Henry had fallen asleep.


	5. The start of the diamond, home base

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Touchdown.

Henry finds a groggy wake in the darkening sky, the sudden shift in light and altitude steal away the last scraps of sleep. He lays there a second, hearing nothing but feeling a deep, bone shaking rumble under him, comforting, homely all the same.

In those silent seconds that his mind begins to turn on, he wonders if Charles had flown through the night so they could get to base as early as they could. He’d always been awfully fretful like that, Henry finds a smile at that as he closes his eyes and-

_…Charles?_

His eyes fly open and he almost flies into a seated position before it begins to click. _If this was an enemy, he couldn’t risk alerting them_ the blanket, thankfully, prevents whoever is moving from the left corner of his eye noticing his tense, he was untied too, had he been knocked out? His head ached something fierce. Atleast he didn’t seem to have a concussion. Little blessings, he supposed.

There’s a low ache in his stomach, a slight curdling, hunger. Odd since he’d eaten the day before and hopping off the map had long since trained his body to appreciate every morsel without asking for more. 

The second thing that clicks in his head is that he was unarmed, understandable, but still had, what he guessed were coins, in his back pocket. He’d found himself rather fond of that pocket knife, a shame then. 

His clothing clung to him too, something that he was fond of in his younger years as it made it easier to slip past people without the sound of fabric turning their eyes towards him. Linen too, apparently, something that he was still much fonder of than the strict standard cotton. It was torn, exposing half his chest to the blanket. He was wearing some kind of mufflers, high quality ones if he hadn’t been woken by the general rumbling of the aircraft they were on.

He hadn’t dared turn his eyes enough to his captor to see what they truly looked like, a mere gray blur at the very corners of his very nearly shut eyes. He risks a glance and _red._

Features that were etched into his minds eye, soft cheek bones and sharp eyes, intelligent as they scanned over dials with a practiced gaze, hair that had grown a bit too long to be military standard but he was damn good enough that not a soul dared call him out on it. His chewed at his bottom lip as his deft fingers adjust the craft through turbulent early spring winds with the assuredness of a veteran long past his prime.

As much as his heart settles at the sight, his guard flies up. His Charles had died three months ago, and as much as he wished, _begged,_ for this to be his Charles he knew better than to hope too deeply. The person on the other side of the craft doesn’t seem to notice him, too engrossed in reading the tiny disclaimers that come up at the slightest disturbance, a font far too small for Henry to read too before they’re dismissed by smart fingers.

So his eyes watched and his heart ached as a military compound came into view. He recognized it immediately, a base on the edge of the Russian boarder. 

American.

He stares at it in mild disbelief, it was missing the renovations done on the east most wing where they staged bomb diffusal classes, theoretical. The majority of the explosives experts were trained near the Dogobogo jungle, but since it was so remote, still surrounded by the Russian winter’s snow, it worked well enough as a testing site. 

Unfortunately the only thing that differentiated real bombs from the fake ones was a thin black line, no thicker than his pinky nail, that disappeared into the black chassis of the bombs. He wasn’t there at the time, having been with Charles and a rather wonderful woman named Rosa scouting out a terrorist organization that had taken over the wall a few short weeks before, but he recognized a few names on the large plaque that was erected whilst they were gone. 

June July, a close friend of Charles, she’d been saving up so she could leave the army and pursue a career in nursing, and Amelia Esteban, he knew nothing about her but they'd met just before that mission in the case she was needed for guidance should they run into any explosives. She’d been the instructor of the lesson. Charles visited the plaque until it had worn too much under his fingertips to read the names too well, inexplicably blaming himself for not having been there.

The building had four equal wings where there should have been an expansion on the east wing, an odd and ugly inclusion that had been built frantically to make room for it being made into a dorm as opposed to a learning center.

The man in the headphones glances at him just as they get close enough to begin descending. 

His eyebrows raise slightly and there’s a small smile as he gives him a jaunty single handed wave. It’s ridiculous enough to make Henry hide a small smile into the blanket.

Charles, having been faced with odd turbulence all of a sudden in the approach to the Russian base, hadn’t checked on Henry in the past hour and a bit, too concerned with ensuring they didn’t accidentally fly into clouds or fly down into the main air currents. With how cold it was, it wasn’t unlikely to be hailing soon, which could be quite the hassle. He lets out a huff of relief as they pass by the majority of it, the winds just stable enough for him to risk a glance to his right.

He almost jumps at the sight of dark eyes peaking out of the blanket cocoon. Henry looks hesitant but curious, eyes flickering to flashing dials every few seconds, narrowing as he tries to read the miniscule print under each flashing light.

Charles gives him a little wave, and watches as Henry sinks into the blanket with the corners of his eyes crinkling a touch. That was good, it seemed as though Charles had built up a bit of rapport.

Henry watches as the man mimes taking off his earmuffs, the headphones slide off and its. Loud. Not unbearably so but it’s still louder than he’d like.

“We’re a few minutes out, we’ll be there soon!” Charles yells over the sound of the vehicle, Henry gives a hesitant nod and sinks back into his blankets, and Charles back into piloting.

The coins dig into his backside with little sympathy for him and the few hours before began to click for him. It wasn’t a dream, was it?

He’d definitely gone through some kind of portal and ended up in a snowy place, in what he was guessing was Russia from the base placement. 

He’d been offered hot chocolate just like the first time he saw Charles-

No, that was ridiculous right?

Henry pinches himself but the sudden sharp pain doesn’t wake him up. His head is full of static.

He sighs and leans into the chair more, time travel? He didn’t know, but wouldn’t it be fitting that it would be him of all people?

He just wanted rest at this point, a single, entirely uneventful month or so. Even the thought of it seemed entirely too far out of reach.

He figured that it was best to stick by the enemy he already knew, this Charles, if he even was Charles. He didn’t quite fancy the idea of walking through a building filled with unfamiliar faces.

So, he’d stick by the man to his left until he found out just what the hell was going on. He could work with that. 

The helicopter lands smoothly and 'Charles' swiftly unbuckles, Henry flinches back as he stands. Charles notices.

Charles watches this man shrink into himself, shaking a little as he kneels down to be eye level with him. His chest aches though he can’t find it in himself to blame Henry for it. He gives Henry a gentle smile, which seems to make him relax a little.

“We’re gonna need to head into base now, okay?”

A nod

“I’m going to report in on my findings, you have to stay near me, is that okay with you?”

Henry felt distinctly that he was being talked down to, but the assurances made him feel pathetically safer. He nods all the same.

“You need to unbuckle your belt now. You don’t need to take the blanket off.”

Henry obeys, unbuckling the belt and standing with the military green standard issue blanket around his shoulders. He looms over Charles, being taller when standing even when Charles was at his full height, broader too.

Charles, used to being around people significantly stronger than him, doesn’t so much as blink when he stands at his own full height and offers his palm to Henry.

Henry hesitates a moment before placing his wrist onto 'Charles’ palm.

“If you’d like, I can lend you my jacket if you don’t want to carry around a blanket?”

There wasn't a second of consideration. Henry shrugs the blanket off, knowing that if he really needed to run the weight would only hinder him. Charles runs cautious eyes over him, checking for any injury he might have missed and finds nothing more than a few odd scratches from where his clothes had torn open in the chase.

Charles shrugs off his jacket, needing to let go of Henry’s wrist to unbutton it. It doesn’t neatly fit on Henry, what with the broader shoulders and the inch or two he had on height over Charles. 

He takes Henry’s wrist back into his hand and leads them both out of the vehicle. 

“They’ll probably ask about the Tunesian Diamond, and anything you know about the Toppats.” He pauses when he feels Henry stop walking, and turns to look at him. 

Henry was pale, hunched, watching him hesitantly and casting a considering look to the edge of the landing pad as though he wanted to run off. 

Charles tapped his wrist with his thumb, drawing Henry’s attention back “All you need to do is tap on my arm if you want an out, okay?”

Henry relaxes a little at that, he didn’t quite do very well with the idea of interrogation.

Henry nods. This was way too specific to be a dream. They walked into the compound through a roof door, and wondered down a few flights of stairs, missing floors he barely recognized.

They stopped a few stories down, Charles glances behind him as though expecting him to have disappeared in the minute or so since he last checked. Henry would be offended if that wasn’t exactly what he was considering doing.

He tenses as they pass by half remembered faces, one particularly sticks out to him, a guy with the last name Broomstick or something similar, he’d only remembered him from one of Charles’s stories about being a captain, having given him cleaning duty for a week as punishment for not keeping up in drills. And because it was humorous.

Henry watches as Charles gives him a mild wave and as Broomstick (?) gives a nod in acknowledgement. Pausing to glance at Henry for a second before going about his day.

The hallways were otherwise empty, Henry guessed the rest were at mess hall at about this time, or socializing in a few of the library rooms in the northern wing.

They enter a room that is distinctly not the General’s, a handler?

“Calvin” the lady at the desk greets as they enter, taking careful measures to avoid making too much noise. Her hair in a tight, high bun and her head barely raises to glance at Charles.

Charles gives a nod nonetheless and starts. 

“I didn’t spot any activity in the main search area but did have a bit of a run in with the Toppats”

The lady glances up, taking a double take at the sight of Henry, raising a brow at Charles “Toppats? In Russia?”

It struck Henry that the dialogue was the exact same as last time.

Henry slips from Charles's side to behind him in a smooth motion, not unnoticed by the handler that had supposedly quit four months ago. Eleven months in the future? He almost sighed to himself, keeping it back only with the knowledge that he was still in enemy territory for a while yet regardless.

Charles nods in response “Running with the Tunesian Diamond or something similar, I’m guessing it was a single operation”

The handler gives a considering hum, giving Henry an assessing glance before deciding that he wasn’t really a threat. She ducked down, opening a drawer and pulling out an unlabeled manila folder. She places it on the table, resting her chin on her palm.

“Anything else to report?”

Charles pauses and Henry all at once recognizes exactly the choice Charles was balancing. If he told the handler who Henry was, he could be immediately arrested and jailed for crimes prior to his disappearance, and Charles could receive a half year suspension for endangering his fellow soldier. If the General found out about Henry directly he’d definitely be jailed and Charles suspended for six months or more immediately as it would also count as insubordination for not having alerted his handler the second he had sighted Henry.

Damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.

“The forms are here if you want to declare any-“

The door opens with a harsh thud startling Henry enough that he immediately sinks his nails into the fabric of Charles’s black undershirt, shattering the tension in the room as a harried cadet, clearly a newbie for not having known better than slamming the door open with someone who could one day hold their life in her hands.

Charles sends the poor cadet a harsh glare, irritated both from the sudden interruption and having startled Henry, made just this side of more irate by his lack of rest.

“S-sorry” a cadet he barely recognized from the impromptu camp near the Dogobogo three months ago, twelve into the future? It was so confusing.

The newbie quickly places a closed envelope a few fingers thick on the edge of the table before bolting back out as if the hounds of hell had a vendetta against him.

There is a pause before the handler rises with a sigh to close the still opened door, there’s the harsh sound of metal hitting metal as the latches click shut. Oh. 

They were trapped.

“He’ll comply with an open interrogation” Charles utters into the empty room.

Henry knows that it’s the best he’s going to get, what with being an internationally renown criminal still, despite his pardon. A closed interrogation would have been hell on earth, even if the army wasn’t technically allowed to torture their prisoners, they weren’t above starvation and sensory overstimulation.

An open interrogation meant that if he complied, he’d be let go as a free man.

The handler nods, sitting back down behind her desk and tapping something into her computer with a blank face. 

“You sure you want to take a charge like this Calvin?” 

Charles gives a huff “I don’t make empty bets”

There’s a mirth in the handlers eyes before she tosses the folder of forms right at Charles’s face, he grabs it out of the air with ease enough that it looked practiced, Henry knew better.

“You owe me one. Hear me Calvin?”

Charles gives a cheeky nod and grin before opening the lock. “Loud and clear!”

\--

The General’s office held little in the manner of personal items, smart as it meant that there wasn’t really a way to target family since the General went under the pseudonym Galeforce with his original identity KIA several years before, during his accession of the title.

The General himself was listlessly parsing through Charles’s formal field report, nothing more than dolled up flight notes and the odd paragraph about Henry and Charles’s run in with the Toppats. Nothing about Henry’s… embarrassing episode.

Pardoned as Henry may have been, Charles knew intimately that Galeforce's opinion on Henry, that of an untrustworthy but ultimately useful vagabond, would do them no favors. As long as they sat in this base, scanning over the last of the suspicious activity that had been occuring in and near Russia the past few months, the General’s word was law. He could only hope that his request for an open interrogation be processed.

“We can’t let you go if you know too much about our operations, Stickmin.” The General delivers bluntly “I’ll let the open interrogation go through, under the condition that you consent to being under the watchful eye of mister Calvin for the next few months.”

Charles opens his mouth, about to argue his point about Henry being let free after before the General holds up a hand in an irritated, placating motion.

“You bought the cat in, Calvin. It’s only fair you feed it too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally meant to be part of a 9000 word chapter before life got in the way, the chapter had to get cut into this and a 6000 word chunk to get it published on time.
> 
> Its a shame, but I'm holding true to 2-5 days between chapters.


	6. Paper trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry just can't seem to catch a break, poor guy

Henry felt as though he should have thought through his consent to the open interrogation a bit more, mildly regretting not jumping off the helipad and onto a few of the decorative evergreens. They wouldn’t hold his weight for long but it would have been enough for him to reach the ground and bolt.

He found himself wondering down a corridor instead, trailed by Charles and an entourage of other soldiers he felt were highly unnecessary.

The corridor they walked down was narrower than the one they’d taken to the handlers room, it wasn’t used very often and so there was never a need to expand it. The walls were a bare white, unpainted, unstained, almost meticulously clean, no blue accent. The tile on the floor was grey, slightly darker, the grout had a bit of dirt actually, how long would that take to clean out? What cleaning agent would be best?

Charles glanced at Henry, worried as he hadn’t looked anyone in the eyes and had taken an avid interest to the floor. Charles delt his hand twitch, tempted to tap his arm to get his attention, even if it was technically inappropriate. Especially in front of his peers.

They reached a bend, the final corner, Henry thought sardonically. He couldn’t run now, the only way out was through the corridor and everyone but Charles was armed to the teeth. The curve hid a heavy steel door. The door complained profusely about being opened, shrieking and moaning. He considered covering his ears.

The interrogation room itself had a concrete floor, cushioned chairs, a table separating both chairs (bolted down from the looks of it), a wide single sided mirror and a few cameras. Henry relaxed a little at that, it meant that it really was an open interrogation, atleast. He tensed right back up as Charles was lead away by a few other soldiers, to an adjacent room. 

It had happened last time but that didn’t make it any less unsettling.

He took a seat gingerly, threading his fingers in his lap as he waited for an agent to question him, Henry’s throat was already sore with overuse from the few words he’d spoken, (the day before? Earlier that day?) Which did not bode well.

He wondered if they’d let him communicate using a notepad and pen. He’d never had the chance to learn sign language, never having the need to as notes usually did the job. Spending the majority of his childhood in and out of juvenile detention and his adulthood, till now he supposed, on the run never really left enough time to pick up more than a handful of skills.

None of the legal kind anyway, he thought wryly. Maybe he’d take a few classes later.

Sharp footsteps on tile, then concrete, steel toed. His eyes found their way to the doorframe. A face he recognized, Rosa. There was a beauty mark on her chin, another just above her collar, left of her voice box. The door screeched as it shut once more.

“Mr.Stickmin,” she began as she sat down opposite him, crossing her legs and placing her notepad on the table before glancing up at him, eyes piercing “I’ll be asking a few questions, please answer as honestly as possible.”

\--

Charles watched from the observation room anxiously, he’d only been allowed to watch since he’d been tasked with keeping an eye on Henry, which, fair, he did steal a diamond in broad daylight and get away with it, then break ou of two prisons... And into the Toppats’s airship basically singlehandedly and steal documents, but Charles still felt was a bit excessive!

By that he meant the platoon stationed outside the steel door of the underground “questioning room” which had vents only big enough to put his hand in at most and the 'shoot on sight' order given to the rest of the compound should Henry miraculously escape. It really was all too much.

Charles watched Henry speak, it didn’t look like he was doing much more than murmuring in response to Captain Rosalind, she managed most of these 'questionings' personally. She rarely took missions, often only if there was specific information to be gathered that any normal special op might not recognize or might not retain. She was rumored to be just this side of ruthless.

Charles sincerely hoped that Henry wouldn’t withhold anything.

\--

“Do you have any affiliation with the Toppat clan?”

Henry shook his head, he was running through a thousand scenarios in his head incase he needed to escape. He was wearing Charles’s bomber jacket still (he tried not to focus too much on the scent of iris, plum and amber), it could make a nice diversion. Rosa, however looked awfully secure, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.

“…Alright, do you know of any one that might be affiliated with the Toppat clan?”

Henry paused on that a second, did the Rübins even technically exist yet? Or did they exist here he supposed, he hadn’t had the chance to glance at a calendar since whatever happened to him. He certainly wasn’t in his last world though, too many people that were dead were now miraculously alive again, Broomstick guy, Rosa, hell, the plaque was missing. The plaque was meant to be visible for anyone looking into the eastern courtyard, the corridor they happened to have gone through to Charles handler was exactly on the east wing and yet-

“Mr. Stickmin?” her eyes narrowed at him. Ah, it appeared he was taking too long.

“Rübins” he whispered, voice rough and raw, she leaned forward “small group near Dogobogo”

She nodded, scribbling it down with a blue pen, “Anyone else you can think of?”

“Just…” he rubs his throat, how long had he gone without water this time? He’d often forget to eat or drink if no one reminded him. “They have many members in gangs or mobs.”

“Are you saying that they have many satellite-“ Henry flinches “-groups?”

Henry shifted, rolled his shoulders, uncomfortable. He shook his head, “Like having info on rivals”

She hums, jotting that down too. “What were you doing in the tundra?” 

_A tall, stocky figure handing over a dagger to-_ he shakes his head, harshly reeling his thoughts back in.

“Mr. Stickmin, this is vital information." Giving him a severe look "What were you doing prior to being picked up?”

He feels pale, his fingers dig into the backs of each hand, still laced as if cuffed. He takes a painful, shaky breath “following lead”

Her eyes jump up from her paper at that, pen nib resting on a corner to avoid bleeding ink into what she'd written “What type of lead?”

Henry’s eyes narrowed, he stared off into the aether, what was he doing a year and three months ago? Well…

“found… Toppats taking diamond and safe…” he paused, it wouldn’t be a lie to include it right? The memory still chafed, but he felt he was soothed enough by the idea of Charles on the other side of the mirror enough that it came out with little coaxing “killed friend… needed to-“

He stopped tears in his eyes, his voice had gradually been going throughout and now the lump in his throat felt heavy, digging down and burrowing just above his heart. He guessed he'd felt wrong.

“needed to take-“ he couldn’t, the words refused, jammed behind the barrier in his throat and increasing pressure to his eyes enough that he was sure that what little the cold air had alleviated the puffing had been for naught.

She seemed to realize that this line of questioning would yeild her nothing and switched tactics, showing him no sympathy as she marched on. “Do you have anything else you can offer us?”

Henry shifted uncomfortably at that, eyes downcast as he split his hands apart, instead holding his arms close to himself, banding over his stomach as though he was hugging himself. 

He nods shakily, hair falling forward to cover his eyes a little. It was getting longer than he liked.

“paper.” He rasped, not looking up. It took a second for it to click for Rosa before she tore the first page out of her notebook and slid the rest and her pen over to him.

The schematics came easily, etched into his mind as he’d read every single plan on that disk, as he obsessed over the plans the military had gathered after Charles- he had to swipe at his eyes to stop the ink from spreading on the paper.

He’d taken to trading much of his not inconsiderable fortune for any scraps of information anyone had on the Toppats. 

Schematics and plans abound when the clan had been disbanded, old members selling what they had left into the seedy underbelly they now found themselves in without the protection of the clan, for even the sliver of a chance at survival. It made them awful easy to track.

He didn’t blame them, he’d been there in that very same situation. After being presumed dead he used his info to avoid the military and the Toppats for a good year before Charles found him. The information he had on the Toppats was invaluable, rivals of the clan had paid him a handsome fortune when his info had rung true, he didn’t think he’d have survived that year without what he’d collected in that office on the airship, far too many enemies of his would have hunted him down without the protection.

He doesn’t stop for a while, drawing and labelling what he could remember until his thumb began to cramp and his wrist began to ache. His mind hyper focused, maybe this time-

By the end there’s enough to fill quite a few pages. Ground bases, names of members he remembered, like Sven, ideas that had been written down concerning heists prior to their... Extermination. It was extensive. Anything at all that came to mind. 

He wanted to kill them all over again.

By the end he felt truly wrung out, stretched far too thin. He shoves the notebook and pen back across the table, folding his arms and resting his elbows on the table, eyes down.

He watched her eyes widen as she seemed to light up with every page she turned, the book shuts with a soft sound and the pen found its way behind her ear.

“Thank you Mr.Stickmin, that’s all we needed.” She said curtly, standing and walking with a bounce in her step to the door, knocking on it in a pattern he didn’t recognize. “Should you remember anything else, please inform us.” 

The sound of the door was deafening, harsh as it cut into the silence that had otherwise filled the room. There was a platoon of armed guards on the other side. Rosa dissapeared behind them.

Charles appeared on the other side and he felt his blood freeze in his veins, _the web between his fingers split, the piles that built up under the cameras in the hallway, blue, drip, drip, dripping into Naz’s veins_

He needed out out _out_

The platoon turned and left, Charles almost missed how Henry wasn’t breathing.

“Henry?” Charles flinched a little as unsteady and intense eyes landed on him, Henry's hands were shaking, pupils constricted as if drugged. Charles knew he was alone in the hallway and it set him on edge, he knew intimately that Henry had no qualms about disposing of people.

Charles mentally slaps himself, no. Henry needed a guiding hand now. It worked well enough in the snow, and maybe it would now too. Charles hoped that he was making the right call.

“Henry?” Charles repeated, hesitant. It cut into Henry, digging glassy shards into his chest as he took a sharp gasp at the sound, noticing only now that his chest had stopped moving. “can I come in?”

Henry hesitated, he still didn’t know if this was anything more than a well done disguise. He knew he was screwed if it was, trapped in the bowels of a base he barely had time to chart with armed support should he defeat this foe.

He nods, shakily. Charles watches as Henry retreats into himself when he approaches, trying to keep as much distance between him and Henry as he could so as to avoid crowding. The room was small, one of the smallest down here actually, barely four by four meters.

The idea strikes Charles, _was this similar to the room Henry was tortured in?_

It would explain his distress.

“Henry? Can I come closer?”

Henry shakes his head vigorously, his heart rate spikes, nonono, he wanted to bolt out but he knew the corridor was likely heavily guarded. 

Charles heart clenches at the sight, the vehement denial. Just what had he been through?

“Alright, Henry” dark eyes glance up “can you breathe with me?"

Charles watches Henry scramble to understand the words, tense as a wire. He nods, arms wrapped tightly around his waist and hunched.

“okay, in, two three four”

He watches as Henry’s chest expands.

“hold, two three four five six”

Henry’s chest stills, eyes on Charles’s face, frantically scanning for the tiniest seam, the smallest inconsistency.

“Out, two, three, four, five, six, seven eight”

It takes a good forty or fifty cycles before Henry begins to unravel from his terseness. There’s a lull between them when Henry stabilizes enough to think again.

It strikes Henry that not a single person had allowed Henry time like this, allowing him to settle down and slow as his mind finally realized that there weren’t any corpses under the security cameras.

Henry silently motions for Charles to come closer, tensing despite that when Charles stopped only and armspan away. 

They stay like that a while, Charles ever patient as he watches Henry go limp on the table, exhausted, watching him, observing and fearful.

He desperately wants to reach out. Charles stills his twitching hands, tucking them into his slacks pockets so as to not be tempted, Henry relaxes at the gesture a little, were hands a trigger for him?

Henry reaches out then, and Charles freezes, deathly still as a hand comes to rest over his diaphragm, his breaths moving Henry’s hand up and down again in a slow and steady rythmn. The moment felt fragile, like slightest sound would shatter it against a wall.

“we can go now” Henry’s near silently rasps at him, Charles winces in sympathy. He knew Henry wasn’t the talking type, how long had It been since he last talked to someone? Since he had water?

Charles nods, taking a slow step back, watching Henry rise onto shaky legs and hold onto the table for support. Together, they walk out of the room and into the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually from two draft paragraphs that turned a bit cancerous and out of control, it was meant to be a bit more light-hearted but levity was not in the cards i suppose. 
> 
> Instead, have this thing that grew out of me mentioning Rosa and realizing i now had a new character to play with.
> 
> Also this story is turning out way more angsty than i expected, should probably add that to the tags.


	7. Humble abode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles takes henry for a moment of rest.

They key turns with a soft click. 

It was night now, only a skeleton crew assigned to posts and patrols at this time, most everyone else in their sleeping quarters. Charles had become one of the exceptions to that rule long ago, not needed in the barracks as a captain and therefore never needing to abide by the schedules of cadets and trainees.

He remembered his first few months there vividly, before he was picked up by the more convert faction of the army. He was barely nineteen then, so very fresh to every experience. It was a little odd to think that it would be his twenty seventh soon.

The door to his quarters swings open, Henry’s hand still harshly clinging to the back of his shirt as he had been since they left that wretched hallway. Charles knew full well, having to have been a part of these questionings in the past, that they were necessary.

He knew intimately how to deliver these questionings too, familiarity from experience. 

He hated it.

Oh how he hated it, Charles was never the ruthless type, he could play it well but it tore at him, cutting deep scraggly scars in his heart. He preferred to be himself, yes it meant that he was sometimes too literal, too loud and out going and far too willing to trust.

Charles adamantly refused to be crushed by the life he had chosen.

And so, with his mind crystalizing around the idea, he turns to Henry, headphones still resting on his shoulders, the quiet man still on high alert, and pulls him in.

“Welcome to my humble abode!” he says, perking up a little as he enters the confines of the closest thing to home, taking a moment to move further in to turn on the light “You can make yourself comfortable, if you want”

The switch clicks softly, the apartment becomes bathed in a warm yellow-orange light, hardwood scuffed and refracting the light unevenly. 

Henry’s eyes immediately shoot past the coatrack and the few shelves in the otherwise barren living room-kitchen space and the window facing out to the courtyard that sat at his stomach height to the calendar that Charles had always had in the corner of his kitchen. Sure enough, twenty nineteen. A year before-

“Henry?” Charles looks at Henry, a little perplexed at the sudden move away from him. Henry was intently studying the calendar. Oh. Of course he wouldn’t know what the date was. 

Henry stared at the tiny, red, smile faced sticker over August eighth, silent, as always. The realization crawled under his skin, a thousand butterfly feet, a billion buzzing crickets and burrowing worms as a cold weight rests in his chest. The Toppat base blew up on the seventh.

Charles didn’t get to turn twenty eight.

It was a fact that he’d known distantly, a thought that floated in his head every once in a while, filling his eyes and leaving him with a lump in his throat. Now, it fills him with cold anger more than anything. They hadn’t technically done anything yet. Henry knew, intellectually at least if not emotionally, that Charles’s… passing, was the result of a single persons actions. 

He didn’t much care for logic, not when that cold anger, which he knew could turn searing should anything happen again, had already stained his hands redder than even the most skilled assassin.

It had only taken a single sleepless month. It was almost pathetic.

Charles watched Henry’s expression turn cold and stony, a change from the constant alarm and fear he’d been faced with. It didn’t feel assuring at all. 

“Henry?” Charles sounded cautious, a little wary, Henry's attention didn't waver “I’m having dinner. Do you think you can stomach anything right now? Water?”

Henry considers it a moment. His throat was parched and his stomach empty. He could easily go a day or so more.

Henry shakes his head at the offer Charles gives, Charles can’t help but overthink it, a little scared at having this almost stranger in his space. He squeezes past Henry and the island in the middle of his kitchen, he digs through his fridge, never dipping his head low enough for him to lose sight of Henry. 

Henry doesn’t look away from the calendar, not even when Charles polishes off cold pizza from the mess hall a few days ago.

There’s a dip in the silence, a sudden drop in temperature at some point. Charles is half tempted to grab something to defend himself, noting without any cognizant thought that some of the little cutlery in his kitchen was an array of knives, instincts quite literally beaten into him flaring up as Henry turns to look at him.

The fire in Henry’s eyes is gone however, a resignation rests there instead. Tired. There wasn’t a word to describe it exactly, maybe world weary came close. 

Charles watches Henry come to a rest on the other side of the table, away from the kitchen, he watches Henry slump a little, shoulders dropping and head bowed. Charles appreciated the gesture, he knew that it couldn’t have escaped Henry that Charles was now in a good enough position to arm himself before Henry could get to him.

It hadn’t actually, skipped his attention that is. Henry felt guilty almost about the tension between them. It hadn’t existed the first time a year and three months back, his hand raises to rest on the back of his neck. Or was it a year, three months and a day? 

It felt arbitrary.

Charles was scared of him, or at least weary. He had full reason to be, Henry was an unknown, a criminal in Charles’s space. 

He shucked off Charles jacket, careful not to tear the seams, puts it over his arm and rises, taking a few strides to hang it delicately on the coatrack next to the door. 

The apartment wasn’t big, a small entertaining space with an adjacent open plan ‘kitchen’, that had little for actually cooking, was the first thing one saw from the entrance. Then a door to the right that lead to his bedroom where Henry knew Charles horded his hundred or so books. It had baffled him the first time seeing as Charles wasn’t the type of person one expected a hundred niche interests from.

There was little in the way of personal objects, only a picture of Charles with a brother and his parents in which Charles was presenting his high school certificate on the shelf most distant from the window (Henry noted that it looked like it was meant to house a sofa under it), and maybe a few odd trinkets that Charles had collected over the years, particularly resin preserved insects. 

Everything could have been fit neatly into a duffle bag, save his books.

Henry understood though, Charles had hinted his need to move bases every few months with where his missions usually lined up, to waste less fuel if nothing else. Charles was sought after. For all that he made up hare brained schemes, he was fast and skilled, having more experience with his helicopter than most had in anything else. 

Henry took his seat, sitting on the other side of the table, allowing himself to slouch some more as Charles briskly stood, rinsed his plate and sat opposite him once more.

“You know... we’ve got a civillian clothing storehouse in the west wing. If you want…” Charles stopped, fiddling with his headphones and shifting uncomfortably, but Henry caught his gist. As much as Henry would love to walk around in Charles’s clothes, it was unreasonable. 

Charles slipped off his headphones, placed them on the table, near a charging port near where the kitchen island and ran a hand through his _soft_ hair. “It should be open at around six, maybe seven. Nobody really goes there, we can head off after breakfast?”

Henry hadn’t actually known about the storehouse, always having bought things under a stolen identity or by nicking it off shop fronts, even after having met the first Charles. It was his plan to replace his currently torn shirt and pants actually. He guessed he now didn’t need to do it under Charles nose, atleast.

Henry watches him for a second, still getting used to having _Charles_ there again. It felt a little odd, stressful almost. He’d never let Charles be hurt like that again, even if it lead to cropping his wings. Charles would hate him for it and Henry would be willing to take the fall for everything in a heartbeat, if Charles stayed alive. That would be enough.

Henry shrugged, clearing his throat though it didn’t make his response any less raspy “that’s fine by me”

Charles, though still tense, eases himself a little.

There’s a stretch of akward silence between them. Both he and Charles had known each other as vastly different people, Henry having gotten used to the bright eyed and bright minded Charles who was just a little too impulsive and Charles who had known a confident master thief who’d managed to baffle both the military and the Toppats.

“So…” Charles finally says, breaking the odd stretch between them “It’s getting pretty late.”

Henry’s attention was immediately called to the clock on the opposite side of the calendar, over an electric stove, the time keeper near silent _yeah,_ the other Charles says to him one day when he and Charles were lounging and enjoying his vast library _I was never really able to stand those clicking noises, ya know? Faucets are much worse though._

It was almost two am.

Had they really been down there so long? Henry could have sworn everything had happened in less than a minute. 

“If you want you can take my bed?”

Henry immediately shook his head at that, absolutely not. Charles had probably barely slept during his mission, he rarely ever did if he could avoid it. Charles did sleep like the dead when they were at base though, Henry knew Charles wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink anywhere else.

“well, I can’t exactly let you out of my sight though…”

“I’ll sleep on the floor”

“No” Charles denied immediately, he knew damn well that Henry was wearing barely anything and it wasn’t mid summer yet. The floor was too damn cold.

“I-its really fine-“ Henry’s voice cracked a touch, maybe he should have taken that cup of water.

“No. You are not sleeping on the floor Henry Stickmin”

Henry shrunk into his chair a little as Charles pointed an accusing finger at his face. 

“Take the bed”

“no”

“Henry” Charles’s earlier hesitation faded completely, instead replaced with something distinctly unimpressed. “You’ve been run ragged, take the bed”

“And you haven’t?”

They came to a stand still. Charles gave a frustrated sigh.

“Fine. We’ll both sleep on the floor then!”

Henry shot him a bewildered look waving his hands a little “wait, no I’ll-“

“No, no, we’re both sleeping on the floor!"

Charles marched off to his room, shooting Henry, who was still rather startled at the turn around, a rather miffed glare. Of course, Henry thought to himself, what did he expect?

Henry supposed that there was plenty of space for it, _why don’t I have a couch? I mean, it’s just a lot of unnecessary clutter when we can just use the inflatable stuff._ the Charles in his memory shrugged _its not like anyone but you really comes over._

Charles returned to the rather barren entertaining area and deposited a comforter on the ground, easily the size of a queen mattress and handed him both a blanket and a pillow pet.

"Charles-" 

"No. We're. Both. Sleeping. On. The. Ground." Charles replied petulantly, punctuating each pause with his finger sharply jabbing into the air in front of his chest. Henry almost expected him to stomp his foot.

Charles drops to the ground, lays down and makes himself comfortable, throwing a blanket over himself, shooting the now amused Henry a pout before turning away and covering his head with a blanket to block out the still opened light.

Henry shook his head, depositing his blanket and pillow gently on the floor and took swift, silent strides to turn off the light.

Click.

Darkness.

\--

Henry couldn’t sleep.

He probably should have expected this, he’d napped on the flight here, after all. He turned left, then right, onto his back, onto his stomach and repeat.

It was around four am that he gave up. Charles on the other hand was out like a light, probably moreso from sheer exhaustion than any real rest.

Henry turned to Charles, resting his head on his palm, staring at his back. Charles was sure to be uncomfortable, the floor never had agreed with Charles, the few times a mission required them to sleep on it. With how loud his snores were Henry assumed he was rather deep into whatever dreams he was having.

In the end, he didn’t deliberate on the thought as long as he should have.

Henry slots Charles into his arms, the blanket still cocooned around him and pillow harshly clutched to his chest, a line of drool running down his face. Henry probably shouldn’t have found it as charming as he did.

Charles’s bedroom door is oiled, silent as it opened and his bed was the same as ever, a twin with a sheet covered in tiny helicopter print. Henry’s lips twitched up despite himself.

He did notice however that Charles was missing his copy of Inorganic Chemistry Volume VIII. 

Which was a little odd to him as he’d gotten rather used to it being on Charles’s bedside table whenever he mustered the will to sit in the tiny, empty apartment after _fire, shrapnel striking the pod, his screams leaving him deafened to anything else, hot inky stains on his cheeks that spread downwards, marring him but dropping onto the floor as salty water, the darkness being eclipsed by blue as he plummets down, down, down-_

He gently places Charles down. His face was wet again. 

He lets himself indulge for a moment, taking in Charles properly. Neither had gone through their night time routine and so Charles's face was still a little dirt stained, his hair a little rough and puffy from the snow's moisture, and gods his breath smelt terrible. Henry wouldn't change him for the world. He wanted to reach out too and touch, touch, touch but he didn't dare. Not when he knew how much it risked waking him.

There was only a tiny slit of a window in Charles's room, covered by one of his bookshelves most of the time, unless Charles had managed to lose something behind it. Henry knew he wouldn't be disturbed by the sun in the morning, Charles probably needed the rest.

Henry's head wasn't as sore as earlier, no fever either. He’d change the bandages tomorrow he decided.

Henry left the room, gathering and placing all the blankets and comforters into the closet in Charles’s room, silent as a grain mouse. 

Eventually he closes the door with a gentle _click_ and eyes the kitchen table, considering what he would do till Charles awoke, smiling as he notices his headphones still there. The headphones were blue tooth connected, he remembered Charles mentioning a long time ago when he asked about why Charles would take them out of his vehicle. 

He plugs the headphones onto their charger, which was itself plugged into the docket at the end of the table and takes a chair from the kitchen to sit by the window. He sits with his knees touching the wall and his eyes tracing watch towers and decorative evergreens on the east side of the compound, the little snow fall having drowned any footsteps.

The sun would be coming up soon.


	8. Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry has a moment for his body to replenish, if only his mind would take the hint

Charles groans at the tiny beam of sunlight that decides that it’s time is best spent resting on his eyelid, batting it away by covering his eyes with his arm. The damage, however, was done. 

Charles had always been a notoriously light sleeper, almost comically so. He’d wake at the slightest disturbance if he wasn’t exhausted beyond all belief, always having been a habitual insomniac.

He smiles a little as he remembers a game he used to play with the other covert trainees (well, it was training but it counted!). gathering various noise producing items and carefully amping up the volume, moving along the line from dropping a pin on the ground to sleigh bells to even outright service bells they’d undoubtedly stolen from practice exercises (Charles was never as good as the others at pickpocketing or noticing he’d been pickpocketed) to see who woke with the least effort. Charles had always won. He’d usually been awoken by the sound of fabric rubbing against itself from when they’d come into the room anyway, a hazy, half dead sort of wake but it was enough. 

He always played along, startling his fellow trainees by suddenly jumping up as soon as the pin was dropped, spooking them enough that he’d sparked a bit of a legend around himself. He who wakes by the step of an ant. He let out a little huff at that.

He almost forgot just how much he missed them.

He turns to his side, feeling the mattress sink below him and the- wait. Mattress? He could have sworn he’d fallen asleep on the floor.

No wait, he was missing a piece of the puzzle. His arm stops obscuring his eyes. And then it clicks.

Fuck.

He shoots up, scrambling a little out of his door and into the lounge room, which was rather empty, Charles though hysterically. Oh he was so screwed, how was he going to explain-

Ah. 

His eyes finally landed on Henry, asleep at the window sill, chest rising and falling slowly, face buried betwixt his folded arms on the window sill, knees touching the wall and slid apart just a bit more than what Charles would have expected of him. Sleep lax. Charles let out the last of his panic with a breath, oh thank goodness.

He ran a hand through his hair. What to do? Well…

They definitely needed to head down to (he glanced at the clock for confirmation, barely over ten am but he was on break for the next two weeks on account of Henry and his last mission) breakfast, then a shower and then the nurse. Maybe they’d grab something light? 

Henry looked like he hadn’t had anything substantial in a while.

Speaking of which, how was he meant to wake him? If Charles was guessing correctly Henry had probably only been sleeping for a few hours-

Charles flinched as Henry rose in a fluid motion, a hand on the back of his chair as though he was about to shove it into Charles knees and bolt.

Henry’s eyes were filled with a heavy haze, fever bright. The moment between them gives Charles just enough time to recognize Henry swaying, had he gotten an infection? It wasn’t unlikely, Henry had ended up with several small injuries, and if he wasn’t eating well… he needed to check his temperature.

Henry watched the still figure across the room from him, barely able to make him out as his eyes refused to stay focused enough to make out anything save a blur. His head ached something fierce and his throat was parched beyond all belief.

He felt as if he’d woken up from a bender on a street corner. 

Henry gingerly sat down on the chair again, head leaning back so that his shoulder touched the frigid glass and his opposite leg touched the back of the chair. _it’s got a pocket full of argon or something, keeps the heat in, ya know?_

Charles took a gentle step out into the lounge room, abandoning his bedroom for only long enough to wonder forward. 

“Good morning” Charles finally murmured, breaking eye contact to look for his headphones. 

Henry gave him an exhausted nod, eyes half closed as he leans further into the window, body supported by the wall and chair alone. Charles watched him from the corner of his eyes, but had guessed by then that Henry meant him no harm. He'd had plenty of opportunity the night before when Charles had impulsively made them both sleep on the floor. He winced a little at his forwardness, that could have ended badly.

Speaking of which, Henry had probably carried him to bed and put everything away hadn’t he? 

Ah! There they were, his headphones were charging which was odd since he could have sworn that- Henry tensed from the corner of his eye at something he saw outside. Charles’s attention was immediately averted.

He slipped the charging cord out and hooked the headphones around his neck, carefully padding across the ‘wooden' floors to see what the fuss was about. Henry gave him a cursory glance that lasted a few moments too long, scanning over his face with just a bit too much attention to be comfortable, before turning his attention back.

There was an envoy from the wall. A line of armored trucks, three or four or just under, followed by a small platoon of soldiers. A show of force, probably. The meeting was that day, after all, discussions on prison policy and implementation of new international laws within the walls of… well, the Wall. Charles raised an eyebrow at it, knowing full well that the men of the Wall (particularly Gregory, speaking from his sour experience with the man) likely wouldn’t abide.

His side touches Henry’s as he leans closer to check exactly what they were wearing (Henry glances at the tiny sliver of his collar bone that was revealed by his undershirt, a mild flush to his face. Not that Charles notices.) And almost smirked at the sight. The armor didn’t cover any of the major joints or the neck correctly, there being a sliver of revealed neck just under the jaw piece and what looked like weak latches on all the elbow and knee joints. The armory was only a two minute walk away from his apartment on the Captain’s floor, a safety precaution in the case of a siege (as unlikely as it was) or an insurgence.

And Charles wasn’t a bad shot.

“Say, Henry” He glanced up at Charles (and away from his avid analysis of his collar and jaw and-), and is met by cheeky bronze and oak gaul eyes. “we should… actually, on second thought we probably shouldn’t”

Henry tilted his head in response, Charles chewed at some skin on his chapped lower lip, nodding to himself as though he’d agreed to something he’d thought, casting a final considering glance to the window before shaking his head.

“Alright Henry, I’m gonna check your temperature, that okay with you?” Henry startled, taking a considering look a the window before nodding. 

“Alright then, try not to move too much”

Charles’s hand was cool against Henry’s forehead, a little clammy but he didn’t mind, better than the… other Charles. The one that _haunted his nightmares and who’s hands were always perfectly soft (his- this Charles’s one’s weren’t, they were gun calloused and heavy and dream Charles’s touch felt far too similar to- oh gods there were hands all over him, coldly groping and reaching down, down, downdowndown, He didn’t want it but they didn’t stop their descent. They didn’t listen when he begged.) until-_

It was all over in a seconds, Henry only barely catching himself from following the touch, seeking comfort from this calloused handed man despite how cold and heavy the weight in his stomach was.

“We’ve gotta go grab some breakfast, clothes and a mattress or something for you.” Henry opened his mouth, about to argue “ap-bapbapbap, nope, none'a that.” Charles pokes his shoulder and sends him an accusatory glare, which Henry found just a little humorous.

“You. Are. Not.-” He punctuated each word with a light jab “sleeping on the ground!”

Charles crosses his hands across his chest, daring Henry to challenge him on this, chin slightly upwards in a haughty gesture.

Henry, however, acquiesced with a simple nod, an amused glint to his eye, which made Charles blink mildly, a bit off kilter at the lack of pushback. Okay then. He cleared his throat.

“Alright. Uh. Well, we gotta have showers and since we’re on the captains floor, we kinda gotta use the floor’s communal shower?” Henry paled at that horribly, Charles’s hands waved frantically “its really not that bad I swear! It-its kinda past the morning rush right about now any ways so, so we’ll probably be uninterrupted -and wow that sounds weird out of context- and you can like borrow some of m-m-my-!”

Henry’s hand gently rested on one of his flailing arms, startling him a little. “its okay” Henry says simply, a low, rough whisper.

Charles glances down at the hand (rough and covered in tiny little scars), which swiftly retreated under his gaze, back to Henry.

“Right. Right, okay.” Charles nodded like a bobblehead “I’ll go grab us some clothes and you can uh- just-just stay there!”

It strikes Henry that this Charles isn’t all that different from his own.

\--

Henry. Hated. Communal. Showers.

Charles had finished first (he’d admitted with a sheepish grin that the water would be unbearably cold if both of them went in together) and was waiting for him outside, having turned his headset on and having probably tuned into a code frequency.

His head stung a little, but the wounds didn’t bleed, healed just barely enough to stay closed under the dismal pressure of the shower.

None of the water was anything but Luke warm, the soap (which he’d learned was also communal, though literally every person brang their own, Charles included) was very gross on principal, the blood under his nails was an absolute pain, the toothbrush Charles had given him wasn’t soft with wear as he was used to the towels were barely any better than a brillow pad.

Charles’s civillian shirt didn’t fit on him, and with a bit of creative maneuvering he managed to wrangle Charles’s pair of pants on. The scent of amber, iris and plum barely wafting under the clean laundry scent, remnants of Charles’s cologne.

Even though he was mildly terrified of shifting too much in fear of tearing the seams, it was more comfortable than he’d felt since- since-  
He grit his teeth. He needed to acknowledge it in his head properly if he was going to get anywhere with preventing it from happening again. Henry ran a hand through his no longer greasy hair, he’d just have to work on that.

He sighed, rigorously rubbing his hair (careful to avoid the edges where his cuts were, dabbing those areas with no little delicacy) to get the last of the moisture, feeling a lot better than the night before.

At the door he was greeted by Charles, still fiddling with a tiny knob right next to the charging port of the headphones, a hundred yard stare as he twisted it tiny increments. Henry waited beside him, leaning into the wall just out of Charles's eyeline and enjoying the feeling of worn clothes not quite covering him completely (there was a sliver of his stomach on display that he was half tempted to hide away).

And so he stood there for what felt like little more than a few minutes, towel and dirty clothes on his arm, wearing his own pair of rubber soled civilian shoes. 

He’d never actually stayed at this base for more than a few hours at a time, renting out a room in the nearby motel (which was only about a kilometer away!) And later in a small apartment. He’d only really ever willingly entered these bases under the promise of a mission or of Charles’s company.

Charles hands cross in front of his chest as he seemed to find the frequency he was looking for, leaning back a little, not having noticed Henry quite yet.

Henry takes a moment to check him out, eyes tracing over his torso. It was thankfully entirely intact. _They’d found Charles’s body, missing everything from the ribs down or his hips up, nothing but a shredded chasm where his heart was meant to be. Forensics had concluded that it had killed him instantly, shrapnel striking the brain from multiple angles all at once._

He swallowed down the lump in his throat. Charles’s very existence felt like a balm.

He shook his head, not quite the time to be dwelling on that kind of thing. The motion attracted Charles’s eye, he shot henry a smile, turning down the volume of his headset.

“Ready to head down? The faculty are probably the only ones at the cafeteria right about now.”

Henry’s head tilted.

“Hm? Oh, I mean like the cleaning staff and the cooks and stuff. The early morning shift ends soon though so we gotta hurry if we wanna avoid people”

Henry nods, Charles gives him a little smile and turns up the volume enough that Henry could almost make out words, turning and leading the way. Henry followed without second thought, it had been about nine months since he’d last been here.

Charles glances back every once in a while so Henry speeds up a little, keeping pace at his side. Though Henry doesn’t slide down the hand railing of the stairs down, it’s a close thing, tempted to move as quick as possible and use the least energy.

He didn’t truly trust this Charles yet, no it had only been about a day since he met him, but he was tempted to. He knew that if this was a trap then they’d waited too long to spring it. 

Though Henry was light headed and a little nauseous from the lack of sleep and food, he’d still rested more that night than he did most weeks since- fuck, okay. Maybe he should see one of the on base councilors.

Speaking of which, he hadn’t had any… cravings since he’d woken up, which was exceedingly rare. Maybe this body was just like the one- maybe it actually was the one that was here in this time. He shifted in discomfort. He really didn’t like the idea of that.

They walk down two flights, seeing no hide or hair of most anyone else. It was a little unsettling, but not unexpected. The Wall was allied to the army, but the tether was thin enough that it would be foolish not to play up their battle capability, showing off the cohesiveness of the forces through morning training. It might even cow the Wall into conceding. Henry didn’t think so but stranger things had happened.

It was only then that Henry remembered that the Wall hadn’t agreed to stop trying to arrest him quite yet. He winced internally, he’d just do his best to avoid them then.

The hallway to the cafeteria was wide, a window to his right (opposite the door to the cafeteria) showed the west end of the compound, it had no yard, not like the east end, only watch towers. Black protrusions rising from the blank ground, a child digging graphite spikes into printer paper. He looked away, taking a bracing breath before finally following Charles into the cafeteria.

\--

Henry stared at the plate he was handed with slight bewilderment, a little overwhelmed by the literal buffet in front of him, a few trays having more food than others but seeming rather full all the same. He'd only realized Charles was talking to him when he glanced over for a bit of guidance.

“-so, yeah, just grab whatever you want, sporks are over there-“ he pointed to a table adjacent to the buffet “coffee and tea over there-“ he pointed to a table on the opposite side, it had a water broiler and a selection of coffees and teas with sugar packets and creamers “and you can just sit with me when you’re done picking stuff, kay?”

Henry nodded absently, it reminded him a lot of the impromptu prom they’d held in his highschool, he though hysterically, the place they were meant to hold it had been closed down, OSHA concerns apparently. The tables had long benches on either side as well. He swallows down the lump in his throat, taking a fortifying glance at Charles (who had already filled his plate and was waiting for him- he really needed to hurry) before facing the beast directly.

He...

He ended up just getting some black coffee and mashed potatoes. A whole piled plate of mashed potatoes. He didn’t even really like potatoes, they were just the closest thing.

They sat down on a table just a bit away from the exit door, not a single other person in the cafeteria (Henry'd counted about five) so much as glanced up.

He didn’t even grab himself any utensils, shoveling his potatoes with great abandon using one of the plastic stirring spoons that was meant for the coffee.

Charles, having only taken a bite out of his hash browns, watched on. He was a little perturbed (he understood, of course he did but it was still rather jarring to watch someone practically drink down mashed potatoes in obscene quantities) but found it mostly (absolutely) morbidly fascinating. Henry finished, politely placing his spoon on the plate and taking a patient sip of his coffee. 

“So…” Charles began into the chasm between them, cutting his hash browns with the side of his spork, buying an extra second by taking a sip of his overly sweetened black tea. “how’ve you been?”

Henry’s eyes watered, shit “uh, you-you don’t have to-“

“Its been... Hard.”

Charles went silent as Henry hid behind his ceramic cup, taking a sip and keeping his eyes adverted. Charles takes a bite, chewing on both the idea and his breakfast.

“do you want to talk about it?” Charles asked as a whisper. It felt almost sacrilegious to speak any louder.

Henry shook his head, head bowed, and then he was getting up to refill his cup with water.

Charles finished his food in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late update, I've had a... Pretty terrible week, my pet died, i broke my finger and I've been through the ringer with school lol.  
> Don't worry tho, the rest of the updates should be timely :)


	9. Dovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of rest and recreation.

They wonder out of the cafeteria, Charles awkwardly rubbing his arm, shifting a little in discomfort. Henry hadn’t looked at him in the past few minutes, looking a little on edge. Maybe it was about the envoy from the Wall? _or it could be about you opening your big fucking mouth-_ OKAY definitely not dealing with that right now.

He shook his head, infirmary, he let out a breath. He wondered if June was taking up a shift, he hoped so, she was incredibly strict with anything to do with medical care and so he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would deliver good care… even if she wasn’t officially accredited yet. 

She had a placement in a university in Canada the next year, scholarship and all, but with how the entire Toppat thing was turning out he couldn’t know for sure if she’d make it that far.

Henry padded on over to his peripheral falling into stride with him, tilting his head. Oh, right.

“We’re heading to the infirmary” he replied. Henry (a little paler) nodded in response. To Henry those words meant a sterile white tile room, the scent of earthy bleach and the sting of injuries.

He wasn’t that far off, the infirmary was marked by a heavy door and a silver plaque with black writing proclaiming exactly what it was. It was a bit odd to him, he could have sworn that it had been gold last time, the writing was supposed to be blue and- oh. Oh right, the explosion hadn’t happened then.

Charles moved in front of him, not having noticed Henry’s slight hesitation, and knocked a quiet little thing.

After a moment they heard a muffled 'come in!’.

Charles, having recognized June for who she was, carefully cracked the door open, he peeked his head in and gave the pre-nurse a sweet smile. June (who was organizing a few minor surgery kits in the case they were needed) raised a brow at him, entirely unimpressed, he couldn’t really blame her though, she had been there to see him scream bloody murder when he had to have some razor wire extracted from his leg the month before (the cut wasn’t very deep, not even really needing stitches, just some skin glue, his leg still kinda ached).

“Need any more impromptu surgeries, Captain?” She snarked, as one of her hands worked on zipping closed the kit, the other swiping hair behind her ear, giving him a slightly fond withering look.

The room itself was rather standard, it was large (enough so that it would take him atleast fifteen seconds to walk from the door to the opposite wall) and white with tile floors. Charles knew it had a drugs closet, it looked more like a repurposed pantry to be honest, just barely enough space for a single person to comfortably fit in it with the door closed.

“Not at all, I’m actually here-“ he felt Henry’s fingers tap him on the shoulder lightly. Charles eyes were directed back out the door “yes?”

Henry, shaking and breathless, takes a step closer as he hears a few warden’s voices down the hall. 

“ah.” murmured Charles “I’m guessing you don’t have the best history with them folks?”  
Henry nods, and almost immediately after he finds himself being pulled into the room, the door clicking shut behind him. 

“Charles, what’s going on?” she’d put away the kit, her eyes shooting to the door, worried, not really focusing on Henry at all.

“Ah, well, it’s a long story that I don’t think I have the time to explain right now” he scratched his cheek, a little embarrassed “but, uh, can you cover me real quick?”

“Does this have to do with-“

“Yup”

She snorted at his response shaking her head.

“Alright” she huffed “I’m guessing he’s your charge?”

“yeah… why?”

“I’m just saying that he looks awful similar to-“

“Don’t do this to me”

“-A certain someone-“

“Noooooooooooo”

“-That you-“

“June! Could you not?!” Charles was sweating and flushed by this point, Henry watched with a bit of fascination as they both bounced words to each other, he’d not gotten the chance to meet her in person the last time.

Heavy knocking on the door.

“coming!”

Her nurse’s garbs swayed behind her as she walked to the door, flailing her arms as she frantically directed them to a nearby closet. Henry caught the hint sooner than Charles, he took his arm and pulled him in close, the door of the cramped closet just barely able to close behind him, shelves and metal containers digging into his back, the room pitch black.

“Hello Sir!” Ms. July cheerily intoned, muffled by the door “what brings you here today?” 

“nothing at all” there was a sound of scuffling shoes “these fine gentle men and women want to look around here, see how our facilities are run” 

“Is-is that so?”

There wasn’t a reply after that, the man had probably nodded. 

The room soon had several bodies in it, Henry instinctively pulled Charles closer, hand on the door knob. Charles eyed his tense figure, close enough to feel him shake.

“These are some very nice sterilization systems” a Russian woman asked a few meters away, probably near the corner of the room.

“Ah, those are-“ June was cut off by the voice.

“Those are just for emergency sterilizations, incase a seal had broken prior to a surgery”

Charles immediately recognized him, Rupert Price, of course. Private first class, apparently he’d joined after being a police officer, he’d been a bit condescending and quite frankly a little irritating but he had a good heart (or so he was told).

“do you use anything in particular for a surgery room? Or is all treated here?” the same woman asked again.

“yes actually, the main surgery room is across the hall, we only treat rather minor injuries here-“

“speaking of which!” Price interrupted, Henry heard this June person huff “lets go head there!”

There was a murmur of agreement before they heard receding footsteps. Charles tried to open the door, Henry caught his hand by the wrist and shook his head, pulling the hand close to his chest and resting his ear to the wall. Silence, for one, two, three seconds.

“By the way” one of what he thought was the team from the Wall asked into the silence, causing Charles to slip his headphones to his shoulders to hear better “what’s in that closet?”

Henry scanned the room for weapons, only pill bottles and prescriptions, all locked into various labelled boxes. Nothing he could afford to use. He held Charles closer, turning them so it was Charles’s back to the shelves and his to the door.

“just classified files” June replied confidently, Charles knew her well enough to recognize the slight quiver to her voice.

“do you think you could… let me in?” the voice a little deeper.

There was a squeaking sound, from one of the beds and then a shuffling sound, June gasped.

“Absolutely not!” she sounded distinctly scandalized “this is very inappropriate behavior sir!”

“ah, I just thought-“

“Please leave the room!”

“Right, right, I’m-“

The dull thud of a pillow on the wall.

“OUT!”

The door squeaked open then clicked shut. Henry rested his head against the wall, a bit of his tension fading away.

Charles let himself rest against the body holding him close, and though he’d known this person for maybe a few days at most, he felt a little fond already. He knew he shouldn’t, especially with him in such a state still, but he was a little helpless to it. He almost sighed to himself, typical.

They waited a minute before Henry finally let go of his wrist, Charles opened the door. The sudden brightness of the room was a little blinding, especially with how dark it had been in the closet, June greeted them with stern hands on her hips.

“Explain.” She ordered.

Charles and Henry share a glance.

“Well, long story short, Henry-“ he flailed his hands vaguely in his direction “- has bad blood with the Wall, I actually wanted you to check out his head a little since he was hurt pretty bad and I’m worried about infection”

She nodded, beckoning Henry to a chair so she wouldn’t have to crane her head up so much, being at about eye height for Charles and shoulder height for Henry. Henry obediently took the seat.

“I’m going to touch you now, okay?” she looked him in his eyes, Henry looked away. He nodded, acquiescing.

Her hands were soft, fingers slim and slender. She gently prodded the skin around a few wounds, making soft humming noises when she noticed something.

Henry studied her nurse apron, never having actually seen it since he’d never stayed in base longer than what was needed for a debrief. It was actually rather nice, the symbol for the base embroidered into the fabric in a soft red color, whilst the apron itself was a light mint green. It reminded him a bit of his mother, when she was still around, though hers was made of linen. He shared her love of the fabric.

“Alright.” She said finally “I can’t really apply skin glue because of where it is on his head and the cuts are too shallow for stitches. Hey, Henry right?”

He nodded.

“I’m going to apply some bandage strips to keep them closed alright?”

He nods again.

“alright, you can’t get them wet for atleast three days though, okay?”

He nods again.

She hums in reply, sterilizing her hands, fishing something from one of the many cupboards a few feet away near one of the beds, opening it and fishing out a blue/green cover, placing it across the table. She put the box back and reached for another, and took a few long strips of paper(?) Bandage and placed them on the cover on the table nearby. 

She shuts the box and places it back, moving to the opposite side of the room to retrieve tiny scissors and some cotton balls with a small brown bottle. She places those on the table too.

She opens the brown bottle and wets a cotton ball with the brown liquid within, dabbing it gently onto the cuts. It didn’t sting, instead being just a little cold. She screws shut the bottle and throws the cotton ball away into a small trashcan.

She cuts the thin finger length strips into knuckle sized ones, a small pile. She sterilizes her hands again and picks up one of the bandages, peeling off a backing and applying it to one of the cuts, then two or three more to the same cut.

The whole process only took a few minutes and when she was done she had him tilt his head so she could double check.

“any other injuries?” she asked, already having spotted the scabbed over scrape along his arm.

Henry shook his head. She sighed.

“Alright, Charles, I want to talk to you after my shift. Got it?” 

Charles gave her a mock fearful nod, and a quick side hug. She bumped her shoulder against his in a friendly sort of way. 

“Off you go then, I know you have better things to do”

\--

Charles stood in front of the storehouse, it wasn’t really a building in its own right, instead connected to the main compound by a metal verandah. Generally it was only ever meant to be used by covert ops for disguises but it was overfilling as of recent, with a lot of covert operatives being lost to the line of fire with the various Toppat bases. It was a bitter thing to swallow for Charles, knowing that he was stuck on base as others of his platoon were off doing surveillance.

“So!” he cheerily shouted, startling Henry (who’d been anxiously scanning the area around him in relative silence) “here we are.” He turned to Henry.

“Ground rules are: don’t take anything marked with a black tag, and anything that has a yellow tag is open season, all the other colors mean that they’re reserved for a specific mission.”

Henry nods. Okay, take yellow only. Got it. Charles nods back, wondering forward to a counter, entering some kind of code into a key pad and retrieving a yellow ticket. 

“Where to first…” Charles whispers to himself “well Maybe? Yeah, that works”

Charles clears his throat, turning to Henry and spoke up at a more conversational volume “ do you mind if we check out the coats section first? It’s pretty cold around here”

Henry nods and quietly trails behind Charles, thankfully there wasn’t anything particularly shiny for him to be tempted by, he hadn’t explained that problem to this Charles yet. 

There weren’t very many coats, most being black, grey or white with the odd pops of dull color here or there, most a few sizes too small on him. Charles made an extravagant motion as if he were a magician showing off a trick. Henry's lips twitched up.

“ooooooh, look at this one” Charles’s eyes sparkled in the bright blue lighting, picking out the only pink one, which was just about Henry’s size “put it on, put it on, putiton!” he urged, bouncing a little on his heels.

Henry, faux begrudgingly, put it on himself, Charles cheered. The coat wasn’t actually that bad, he just didn’t like the synthetic all that much, it caught a bit too much heat.

He shook his head at Charles, slipping it off his shoulders and passing it back. Charles put it back on the hanger and where he found it, bounding over to a white one, a bit too big for him. Henry couldn’t fight off the warm affection in the base of his stomach.

He leaned against a wall and let Charles have his fun, only really grabbing two black coats and a bright red one at Charles’s insistence, the shoes went the same way, black leather and a bright green pair that had caught Charles eye. 

By the end he had a few outfits worth of clothes, a concerning amount being dubiously neon. Henry shook his head, folding them neatly into a bag.

“Hey Henry, where’d you learn to do that?” Charles asked, pointing to his crisply folded clothes.

“Retail” he replied near silently.

“oh, really? I actually have never worked retail, though I did work at a coffee place when I was a teen” Charles rambled.

Henry nodded his head, making a 'go on' motion before returning to folding.

“actually, most of the people working there were guys!” Charles recalled with a little grin on his face “there was this one named Loui who had a pet spider actually, it would always be in his hair wherever he went” he waved his hands in excitement “and he’d have this hat that he’d wear everywhere because his spider liked it.”

Henry wasn’t really paying attention by this point, letting Charles’s words wash over him as he finished the last of it, humming every now and again when he thought it appropriate. He picked up his bag and let Charles take the lead to wherever they were meant to go next, watching his hands wave in emphasis or to recreate something he was talking about and for once he felt a bit normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a cool new scar!!! Also i feel like this should be more of a weekly update sort of thing so uh, updates will probably be 2-7 days apart, sorry X((((


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *ignores how long its been since I last updated*

Charles’s room was sparse, moreso than he remembered it being. He didn’t have much of a chance to scan it when he first had walked into it this time around , but now that he was shoving hangers into his paltry set of new clothes, it was kind of obvious. 

There were entire sections of shelving that were missing from Charles personal library (the one in the living was significantly smaller), the books that should have been there, a few geodes were missing from his small mineral collection that sat next to his books and he was missing a few hoodies he’d often wear in his off time. 

Henry shook his head to himself, no, he’d probably accrued those things whilst Henry was away at the little apartment that he’d rented in the residential areas near the base. 

“Hey, Henry?” Charles called from the living room. Henry popped his head out the door tilting his head, Charles didn’t see him, he sat there on one of the chairs, back to him, watching his headphones charge. “Are you okay with touring the base?”

Charles turned his entire body to face him, tilting his head too when he saw that Henry was doing it, Henry tilted it again to the opposite side, Charles raised an eye brow, doing the same. Henry bit back a smile, tilting his head to the other side again, Charles rolled his eyes, smiling a little.

“Well?” he asked again, leaning back into his chair. Henry nodded, though he wasn’t too tense, he was certainly still a bit wary, he didn’t think the wall was likely to make a move with so many personnel here, he’d certainly hesitate.

“Alright, could you grab a coat then? it gets kinda nippy around now and its bound to get worse later"

It was only around three pm but Charles was right, the temperature had dropped a bit since midday and it was bound to drop more. He ducked back into the room and retrieved a black, cable knit sweater and a trench coat.

By the time he was out of the room again Charles had popped his headphones back on his shoulders and was pulling on his bomber jacket, zipping it closed over his chest.

Charles turned around, hearing Henry’s clothes shift against themselves and smiled when he realized that Henry had grabbed him one too. He watched Henry flush and shift from foot to foot with eyes on the floor, avoiding his gaze and decided to take a little mercy on him, he plucked the sweater from Henry’s grasp, he gave Henry a soft pat on the shoulder (Henry’s entire arm went warm and his face caught fire) and walked back to the coat rack and hung it there, and then faced Henry again with a smile.

“Come on" he whispered, Henry looked up at him, a bit dazed “we’ll have to hurry if we want to make it to the learning center before it closes" Charles, by that point, was halfway out the door, a tiny grin on his face.

Henry quickly shoulders the coat, shoving it on with a little too much speed, almost throwing his shoulder as he followed Charles out of the apartment.

\--

Rosalind’s head dropped onto the table with a thud, her eyes ached from reading tiny text and the sheer amount of time she’d been awake by that point. She was half tempted to spend the day there, arms on the meeting table, maybe she’d even be able to catch a bit of sleep.

She was a bit thankful to Charles for bringing the lead in, it warred with her resentment for the extra paperwork especially since she had to complete both that and the presentations for the Wall’s dogs coming in. 

Ultimately she didn’t mind too much, knowing that even if she owed a favor, she had more cards in her hands because of it.

Her suit was probably sweaty as hell by then, having barely had the time to breathe since Stickmin had arrived, her stomach rumbled and her head ached from dehydration. She straightened in her chair, resting her head on her right hand, blearily reading over the last of the information that Stickmin had provided.

This (and all the others) had a set of coordinates in the bottom right corner, which thankfully made the scouting authorization forms a bit easier to fill since she didn’t need to send excess scouts into entirely unknown enemy territory for extra information. She would, of course she would but it was only for non vital information, only to double-check Stickmin's claims, she highly doubted that they were fabricated at all, far too much of it lined up with what they already knew.

 _I Rosalind Khan proclaim that this is authorized by me with no external coercion or under threat-_ blah blah blah, aaaand there was the dotted line. Her pen came down on it, left hand swooping down to scribble a looping signature.

She dropped the pen, turning her wrist to check the time, eleven am, just after breakfast had officially ended. Perfect, she thought to herself teeth gritted in frustration. She wasn’t due to host the meeting with Demetri until about three pm so it gave her a bit of time to shower and _finally_ change out of the god forsaken suit.

\--

She shoved the suit into the laundry shoot, letting whatever poor cadet was on laundry duty deal with the unpleasant garment, instead she pulled her spare set of fatigues over her undershirt and shoulders, buttoning it and smoothing it over herself.

She was in the oft ignored changing rooms, usually most people would change in she shower stalls themselves, as they had hooks for towels and clothes just out of the water's reach, but she personally couldn’t stand the thought of being exposed for too long. The room itself was more of a refashioned hallway, sinks on one long side and numbered, person height, deep green lockers on the other, a few benches dotted around the middle, too small to fit more than two people sitting on them snugly together.

She opens her locker (thirteen-fifteen-nine-ten, the lock opened with a satisfying click) taking out her watch and clipping it on and then she deals with her pendant.

The gold pendant (a gift from her current partner, she couldn’t help her smile) was submerged in a slightly soapy mix as she hadn’t had time to properly clean it that week. She grabbed a toothbrush from her locker that she had saved for that express purpose, gently massaging bristles into the various dips and swirls in the filigree, tracing one of the thumb sized heart’s curves with the bristles and watching it brighten as it became clean. 

She patted it dry on her fatigues and turned it in her hands even though she had memorized the pattern of the flat heart quite a while back. She clenched it in her hand a second before slipping it onto her silver necklace, resting her hand over where it lay over the dip in her collarbone. She tucked it under her shirt and lingered in the solitude of the Captain’s communal showers, knowing no one would disturb her as she felt the cool metal warm against her skin.

Eventually, she could barely feel it, only then did she spill the detergent down the drain and place the container into her locker, shutting it with a click.

\--

“What do you mean they’ve been taken!?” Rosalind shrieked at the harried cadet.

“Thats-that’s what the handler said ma’am, Mr.Calvin was meant to report-“

“I know.” She said, shoving her hands into her face “I’m just rather incredulous that _you let them get away”_

“I-I’m sorry” the cadet, who was having his first supervised morning shift at the watch towers (which apparently was un-fucking-supervised since the Captain meant to be teaching them had fucking _bailed_ ) looked about on the edge of tears. 

She felt a little sorry for the poor boy, he couldn’t have been more than seventeen.

She sighed, standing up and walking around her table to the poor cadet.

Wordlessly she put her arms around the little guy and didn’t comment when her shoulder grew wet. 

She felt him finally slump against her (poor thing was probably exhausted) and shake, his arms tightened around her.

“Its not your fault” she whispers to him.

She feels him nod into his shoulder and lets him stay there a while. 

He began to push away, rubbing his eyes. He didn’t look up at her.

She stepped back to her table and looks away from him, picking up the paperwork she’d finished that morning and placing it into a folder, tapping it twice on the table to straighten it and taking an extra few moments to pluck at a few pages to give him time to gather himself.

By the time she turned back around the cadet had put himself back together, only his flushed face and puffy eyes exposed him.

The folder from the table, contained instructions for a few spies (as much as she hated the term) on properly trailing Wall troops, and the approximate trails they would likely take. This wasn’t the first time they had pulled such a trick, though it was the first time that the Army couldn’t afford them as enemies, especially with how their current battle was going.

She held out the folder to him.

“Do you mind giving this to the left-tenant?” She asks him gently, she couldn’t pressure him now, especially when she knew he was barely back together.

He pulled it off of her, clutching it to his chest and met her eyes, looking for something. She didn’t know if he’d found it when he nodded and quietly left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Her office was entirely too quiet. 

She knew that it was all too good to be true, first the Wall had suddenly agreed to discuss global policy enforcement, then Charles had managed to pull off a successful scouting mission through an ambush (even if he’d gotten a minor injury due to an oversight forcing him onto the field), on top of all that, no sudden disasters from covers being blown in the last month _and then_ the sudden info dump?

Hah, who was she fooling. Her luck was bound to run out eventually.

She picks up the final report for the delivery for vaccine vials, there was an outbreak in the area and the General, left and lieutenant all had agreed that it was probably for the best. The war against the Toppats and their associates had them on the losing side as of late and they couldn’t afford more lost troops as enlistment rates had gone down too.

Well… it couldn’t hurt to have some measures put in earlier. Maybe they could even root out some insurgents.

She pulls up her phone, military issue, and dials a few numbers. She had a few friends who were willing to cover her, though she knew it was a risky play on her part. The person on the other side picks up. 

She leans into her table and greets the person on the other side, the first of a long list.

“Hello Amelia"

\--

She was in the broadcast room now, usually it would be blaring something pop from America, boost morale and all that especially since it was almost night now. She takes a deep breath, summoning the last of her strength before she places an audio receiver at her mouth, using its dials to enter the frequency required for the transmission.

“All available personnel to report to the mess hall in the north wing immediately, I repeat, All available personnel report to the mess hall. Over.” 

She placed it down on her table as she knew it couldn’t give her response, it wasn’t designed to. It was risky, to have this many people off the field, but she couldn’t risk it otherwise. She needed a head count, she needed to find the mole in her ranks because there had to be one, for them to leave with Calvin and Stickmin with barely any interference. 

She yanked her scarf from her coat rack, just next to the door of her office. She didn’t wear it often, saving it only for this kind of announcement. Her footsteps echoed, each bouncing off the walls as it was mirrored by the footsteps of those downstairs, moving in from the west courtyard.

She laced her fingers behind her back resting them over her tailbone. She’d have a headcount done, she decided, then bait any spies by hinting on some projects and some building in this base. At the very least it would tempt an insurgence, possibly an attack. It would do.

She already had footage of Charles and Stickmin being taken by the Wall, it was damn stupid but she was glad. even if she had conformation, she knew that her implementation of this plan was highly illegal as it was technically behind the General’s back (he wouldn't mind though... right?).

And then there she found herself, on a stage and infront of men and women who had sworn to protect their country, barely cognizant of the path she had taken to get there. She takes an offered microphone, placing it just a bit infront of her mouth. She clears her throat.

“I apologize for the impromptu meeting” she says into the microphone, her eyes scanning over the people infront of her. “today we will be conducting physical examinations due to an outbreak in the surrounding area.”

It wasn’t technically a lie. The crowd was silent though she did spot a few sending confused looks to each other, not a good start, she continued “furthermore, you might have some difficulty accessing the north wing in the following few days" this garnered some murmering, okay, that was good “it will be minor expansions to the learning center and an expansion to the dorms. You will be called in alphabetical order.”

There weren’t many medical personnel on hand, but enough that she could have a few captains (and a few specialists, but who was counting) assigned to direct them to tent booths and have the procedure done. It would only take a few hours and would allow her to conduct a headcount.

It wasn’t what she wanted but it had to do, especially since the Wall, or any other organization for that matter, know what was happening. She just had to hold her breath and believe that her orders would be carried out.

\--

Charles’s head ached.

He knew why abstractly, something about a blunt object, but his ears were ringing and his conscious was murky. He could barely focus on the figure in the room (?) With him, waving a hand in his face and saying something in a raspy voice that his cloudy consciousness couldn’t parse out. Something in his head told him that this person was safe, or at least safer than the other people outside of the room where they were.

The floor shifted, shoving him into the chest of the figure, his head felt heavier and he was suddenly very nauseous. He didn’t consciously register when he exactly he was covered in his own sick, just that he was now. The figure, despite the mess on Charles didn’t comment, or even talk too much as he removed Charles’s outer most layer, soon after he found himself wearing a clean one that was quite a bit longer, reaching down to his thighs and black instead of the dark green he was wearing.

He felt very sleepy, his head lulled towards the figures chest (were they a man?) But he found himself unable to sleep as the figure valiantly swatted his arm and side in order to keep him awake. Rude.

The floor righted itself, but it jerked constantly, that wasn’t right, floors weren’t meant to jerk and rooms weren't meant to rumble. His head rested on the person’s chest.

The person slapped at him again but it wasn’t enough to stop him from succumbing to sleep.


	11. Red-less and red haired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: includes graphic(?) Description of vomiting (even if it isn't that visceral, I've tagged it) due to a character having a concussion
> 
> ALSO: description of a character that is very unwell and honestly triggered me a little whilst writing cause ✨PTSD✨  
> So, uh, if you have trouble reading about people that are very unwell/ are incapable of response due to injury, you might want to skip till the second **
> 
> Skip from the first ** to the second ** if you want to avoid all that fam.

Henry awoke to the screeching tires of a vehicle, bewildered and light headed. His thoughts were slow, murky as he tried to fight through the haze that filled his head. His neck ached from where he was hit with a...what?

Something sharp that injected a cold, cold liquid into him, he remembered that he was with someone- 

Charles. He was with Charles, they were walking outside next to a small set of evergreens (just out of sight of everything if his memory served him right) as Charles told him a story he’d heard before.

And then he was pricked with something, he watched Charles get hit in the head with something (a bat?) whilst he was too weak to do anything about it. But what was new about that?

Green catches his eye, Charles, hazy eyed but conscious, without thinking he stumbles over to the other side of the truck, the room like space was empty, save for them. 

_you should never let a person with a concussion fall asleep Henry_ his first aid teacher mutters to him in broken fragments as he gathers Charles into his arms, he feels his teacher’s hands guide him to place his hand over Charles’s bomber jacket (his headphones were gone, gone, gone, of course they were, why would they be here?) and then to the dip between his esophagus and vein to feel his pulse. 

The phantom disappears, leaving him alone and with no more direction.

_She wasn’t waking up, the steel rebar going through her chest and the seat behind her._

_“Mom?” He whimpers quietly as the sound of sirens and panicked people surround them._

_He shakes her as he did every morning when she woke up late, maybe she’d just fallen asleep again-_

_“Mom?” He asks again, tears pricking his eyes as he struggles to take in her still figure, her eyes were open, she had to be awake right? The blood trailing down from her mouth meant nothing, right? She had to be alright, he had no one else, it was him and her against the world, she couldn’t be gone, she couldn’t be gone, she couldn’tcouldn'tcouldn't.- The people in the ambulance were lying, filthy lies, disgusting lies, he just wanted-_

“Hey" he whimpers frantically, he couldn’t shake Charles, that would make it worse right? He had to, to- fuck, what was he meant to do again?

He taps Charles’s arm, it doesn’t garner a reaction, Charles’s eyes are open though, lolling absently and blinking every now and again, he breathes steady. He pats his arm, the first few times doesn’t get him any attention.

“Hey!” he says louder, Charles hazy eyes drift to him and he makes an Undecipherable sound, that was something, right? What was he supposed to ask? Right, basic questions. Basic questions, come on, basic questions, what was a basic question?

“Do you remember your name?” Henry asks Charles, patting his arm desperately whenever his eyes start to close. No answer.

“Do you remember your name?” he asks again, louder. No response, shit, no resp-

**

Charles throws up on himself, missing Henry by only a little bit, he shivers and shakes. Cold, it was really really cold in, fuck where were they? A trailer? Henry immediately places him on the unstable ground in the recovery position with shaking hands, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

That couldn’t be good, not at all.

He frantically pats Charles’s arm when his eyes start to close again, startling Charles awake enough for him to send Henry a scornful glare. That was good, some kind of response, that had to be a good sign.

In the low light Henry could see that Charles’s eyes were dilated unevenly. He didn’t stop patting his arm firmly, moving away from the spot he had been doing it to slightly closer to his shoulder, he didn’t want to make Charles’s arm sore.

He kept talking, he couldn’t honestly remember what between the stress and fighting off the sedative as best he could. 

After what he guessed was an hour, he figured Charles could be moved a little. He needed to get Charles out of his soiled jacket (the vomit was crusting and wet, it was so very cold and they didn’t have water to clean Charles properly, he didn’t know how long they’d be stuck) and so he placed his hand at Charles’s jaw, opening his mouth enough to see that Charles’s airway was clear and his breathing was steady, if a little faster than normal. 

Charles was shivering.

Henry peeled his trench coat off, placing it next to him for later, not bothered to fold it. He was talking, or at least making sound, his throat felt sore.

He placed a gentle hand at the back of Charles’s head and turned him on his back with no little delicacy. He draws down the zipper, displacing chunks of half digested breakfast, and peels the jacket off of him, doing his best not to jar Charles too much.

He manages to shove the garment off, picking it up again to use a sleeve to clean the mess around Charles’s mouth and chin with shaking hands, it didn’t do much but it cleaned the bigger chunks off leaving a thin, dried skin over his chin and a bit of his cheek. 

**

He pats Charles’s arm again when his eyes start to close, drawing a discontented rumble and a weak slap to his arm from him. That was good, that had to be good.

He shoves the soiled bomber jacket far enough away that he had some room to maneuver. Gently he pushed Charles to a seated position, resting Charles’s head on his collar bone so that he could use both hands to slip the sleeve onto the barely responsive man. The second sleeve had him moving Charles’s arm more than the garment, but eventually Charles sits in his trench coat, head in his lap and he talks and talks and talks. 

By the time he stops his voice is raw and raspy and the sun long since gone, his arm sore from his desperate efforts to keep Charles _awake_ and goosebumps on his skin, Henry was paler than he usually was and he knew his lips had to be blue by now.  
Charles’s eyes start to close, he pats Charles’s arm but his eyes keep closing instead of shooting open. No, no, no. Henry pats harder, moving to the other arm, no response. Charles’s eyes close.

No.

Henry frantically squeezes an arm, hard enough to bruise but his efforts are for naught, he gives Charles a gentle slap, nothing, a harder one, nothing. 

The doors open.

Henry doesn’t think twice about throwing himself bodily over Charles, bracing. 

A sharp prick on his arm, he shivers, desperately trying to stay awake but his vision darkens, darkens, darkens.

Pitch black.

\--

When he comes to he’s in a cold, cold, cold cell, hands restrained in heavy iron(?) mittens. He shakes and shivers as his vision blinks in and out of the dark, barely catching visions of guards. He struggles against a grip on his arm, he can’t quite tell which one, his thoughts are so very murky.

He feels himself be dragged somewhere, though he wasn’t conscious enough to understand more than the fact he was about to be thrown in a cell. His chest hits the floor with a thud and he doesn’t have the wherewithal to raise his head, instead sinking into a low nausea.

His head aches something fierce, a few points near his hairline glowing molten white in his mind’s eye. His head is on the floor, cold, concrete. He wishes faintly that it was wood laminate, he wishes that it carried the scent of iris, plum and amber instead of ammonia and a tangy iron.

\--

Henry jumps to consciousness, feeling his body tense as his eyes frantically take in the room. Bright. It was bright, day? Was it day? Probably, where was he, what was happening? What, why?

Red.

To his left, a girl with red hair wearing a thick black turtleneck and black tights, he shoots to his feet. He sways, nausea, his vision darkens around the corners but he stays conscious, red's eyes shoot to him, alarmed.

He was still wearing his black shirt and slightly torn pants that he’d borrowed from Charles (it looked rather similar to the guards outfits from a distance) The room was damn near empty, only a hatch on the ceiling (a broken pipe too, he figured he could use that for… something), the door ahead of them was guarded. He leans against the wall. Damn it.

“Are…” the girl begins, stopping when his eyes shoot to her. When he doesn’t say anything she cautiously continues “Are you okay?”

He shakes his head, leaning into the wall moreso and lets his eyes wonder up to the hatch.

His eyes drift back to her as hers do to his and it seemed that they were on the same wavelength. She stands too (she was about his height, which gave him a weird feeling, discomfort?), taking cautious steps just under the hatch, she kneeled down and- oh.

She was going to throw him up. Alright, he could work with that.

He shot up, his laced hands slipped over the broken pipes which scratched his wrists, he shoved his feet forwards, caught the handle and yanked it down, only a second later he flipped into the room above. He broke his restraints on a cement protrusion, the metal giving way far too easily to have been steel.

He gives himself a second to catch his breath and consider.

He could leave her there or he could-

He pushed the ladder, and scrambled down, grabbing the girl by the hands and tossing her up (he winced at the strain on his shoulders, that was bound to bite him later) and climbed up himself.

He pulled up the ladder (something like this had ended up with him caught once before, and like then, something like this would end up with Charles injured, he couldn’t risk that. He couldn’t) and closed the hatch.

By the time he was done the girl had broken her restraints and had rushed behind crates to avoid the gaze of a few guards he’d missed.

He ducked behind the box too, his heart damn near beating out of his chest. They’d probably taken Charles to an infirmary right?

He hoped so. He sincerely hoped so.

He slumped against the box and finally turned his attention to the girl next to him. She shot him a concerned glance, giving him a questioning look. He didn’t respond.

He darted his eyes to the guards and then back to her, tilting his head. She made a vague motion between the two of them, then to the two guards (who were conversing about something but he was barely listening) and then made a strangling motion.

He glanced at the guards then back at her. It could work.

They rushed forward, Henry wrapped his arms around the neck of one of the guards, bringing them down quick and quiet, the one in his arms struggle but they didn’t take too long before shutting their eyes and going limp. The girl went to rush ahead but he grabbed her arm and dragged her back.

She gave him a questioning look, but stopped. He pulled the unconscious guard into the room and saw that the girl did the same, he patted the guards down, finding just a gun. He took the hat, tucking it under his shirt.

She tilted her head at the hat taking, he watched her glance at the uniform and then to the hat still on the soldier she’d taken down. He watched it click in her head. She took a hat and tucked it under her shirt too, before rushing out of the room again.

He followed behind slightly slower, he was heavy enough that his footsteps would make too much noise if he moved as fast as she did. They made it to the end of the hallway, at the end was a door directly to their left (though he didn’t trust it one bit, and from the girl’s cautious glance, she didn’t either) and a room that seemed to have an exit on the other side and a hatch on the ceiling. It was enclosed having a roof, like a spare box in the corner of a room.

He glanced at the roof, it was about the height of their cell. He could probably boost her up pretty easily and-  
His feet lifted from the floor, a phantom hand on his throat, he thrashed, struggled and scratched at his neck to get the pressure off.

His feet touched the roof of the room, he shot a bewildered look down to the red haired girl who put her hands down from where she was presumably motioning to _levitate_ him.

He’d heard of people like this existing but never- no, it didn’t matter right now. He gave her a shaky thumbs up and retreated to find the hatch.

He dropped down, landing silently. He pressed the button for opening the door and wondered out to greet her-

A sharp siren went off, the room bathed in red as all the doors holding the cells closed opened all at once. He bolted out the door, followed swiftly by the girl.

Just outside were a few boxes, and it looked like-

A shot whizzed past his ear, he jumped behind cover, glancing to his side to see that the girl had done much the same. There were a set of three guards on the other side, blocking them from advancing. There were a few weapons behind the grate, a grenade and a sniper on his side and he couldn’t quite see what was on hers.

“Put your hands up!” one of the guards shouted from the other side.

He grabbed the sniper, jumping up to-

A sharp stinging sensation spread from his arm through his entire body, his arm tensing horribly causing him to squeeze the trigger harshly, he fired blind and fell back. The pain dissipated.

He glanced over to the girl, clutching his afflicted arm and blinking at her in alarm. She sent him an apologetic smile, dropping the Taser to the floor.

He left the cover of the boxes cautiously, glancing over the now deceased guards (they were all shot in the head, clean and quick) and spotted a piece of paper in the pocket of one of the guards. He ducked down, moving the body so he could access it.

A map. A map of the compound.

He opened it fully, feeling the girl duck behind him to read too, and there it said clearly in big red, block print letters [Medical quarters] on floor three.

He folders it and shoved it into his pant pocket, and turning to look at the girl crouching behind him.

“Need to find someone” he said, voice raspy and rough. She jumped at the sound, eyebrows raising , she shook her head and responded.

“Do you know where they are?” He nodded, taking the map out again to point at the floor.

“That’s… that’s pretty far from the exit" she replied, raising a brow at the map.

He shrugged, “you can go.”

She paused, looking away from the paper and turning her attention to him, considering.

“No.” she responds finally “Lets go find this friend of yours.”


	12. Down, down, down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its amazing what partnerships made under duress can make you do!

Henry folded away the map, it had already burned into his minds eye. He walked on forwards to the lifts, finding them both closed. There was another way down, of course but it was rigged to set off an alarm as soon as it was used. It was a chute like system, a bit like a slide, if longer and significantly colder than any slide he’d ever been on.

The girl tugged his sleeve, drawing his attention. Guards, running down through a few doors far down the hallway that wasn’t on the map at all. He almost slapped himself, _of course they wouldn’t list every exit in an easy-to-steal map, what was he thinking?_

He sighed, jogging over to the now unoccupied doors and yep, stairwell. Faintly he could hear the sounds of chaos just down there, had the button released _all_ the inmates? Yikes, he hoped not, that would be a bureaucratic nightmare for-

Oh right. He wasn’t their handler yet.

He blinked back at the sudden stinging In his eyes, glancing back at the girl and motioning down the stairwell with a raised brow, asking her opinion.

She shrugged in response, a universal _might as well_.

They hopped down the stairs two by two to see that Henry’s theory was not unfounded, guards were battling inmates (who’d somehow managed to find weapons) and had turned an entirely blind eye to them. The stairwell kept going, down down, down until they reached the fourth floor, where the stairwell abruptly ended.

The floor itself was a maze of walls and a few shelves, from where they were Henry couldn’t determine the exact exit. He could only tell that there were about two guards here and that was only by step pattern.

It was a smart design, he knew that abstractly, but he couldn’t help his sudden irritation. The girl glanced at him in concern when he introduced his palm to his face, but no matter, he put up two fingers and they were quickly on the same page. they wondered on forwards listening close for any sign of the guards approaching he could.

The girl followed, just as cautious. It almost looked like she wanted to glue them both together with how close they were standing, he paid it no mind, knowing that if his focus was not so pinpointed on Charles he’d certainly be just as cautious.

**Thud**

Both Henry and the girl flinched, eyes immediately shooting to a section of the maze. He shared a look with her as the stilled in their space.

There was silence for a moment.

“Shit.” He presumed to be one of the guards muttered to herself. They walked a bit closer to the guards position, (both Henry and the girl grabbed each other, ready to bolt if the guard was too close) and put back what sounded like a cardboard box.

They knew where one was now atleast.

Both of their grasps loosened, Henry sneaked ahead slightly to peek around the corner, the guard looked half asleep and where they were would be just out of the periphery of their vision. Good.

He shared a look with the girl, and pulled the hat out of his shirt with a raised brow. She tilted her head, squinting at the guard before turning back to him, making a wringing motion. Oh, she wanted to knock them out.

He nodded and motioned a throw that would fall behind a few shelves and would give them both a blindspot to work with. She shook her head, instead motioning to a few boxes that looked to be on the verge of falling down and making a throwing gesture, it was a bit riskier but would give them more distraction time.

He nodded to her, passing the cap. She stood slightly taller and Frisbee’d the cap into a few boxes. There was a horrible moment where nothing moved before a small cascade of boxes tumbled down, causing the guard to jolt awake and clutch her hair in dismay.

“oh shit, no, gah!” she rushed towards the boxes, frantically trying to put the items (what looked to be stationary and cards, he winced in sympathy) back in the boxes.

“Maria?” an approaching voice called from down the maze, “are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah, just a few boxes fell again, and, dammit, noooo" she cried as a few pens rolled under a shelf when she knocked some to the side by accident, she was on her knees by that point, scrambling to get everything together.

“I’m coming over!” the voice called, popping their head around the corner and flinching at the mess, “yeeesh, what god did you piss off today?”

“oh shut up Matvy, like you didn’t knock over the overseers cup the other day”

The girl and he shared a glance, beginning to crawl through a few gaps in the shelving so that they could make it without needing to confront anyone.

“hey! I thought we agreed to never bring that up again!” called the other guard as they both shared a laugh, gathering the cards and well and truly distracted.

The door that lead to a stairwell was visible from the other side, they bumped fists silently before sneaking over.

The journey down was silent, eerie. There was a red siren light activated but the siren itself was silent, they were in a corridor, each door having something in Russian written atop it. He didn’t know Russian well enough for this.

Well, brute forcing it was always an option.

He opened the first door on his right, peering through the gap and spotting nothing but a few unconscious nurses and doctors. The door closed with a sharp wheezing sound, drawing a wince out of the duo.

He moved down the line, door after door it was the same, no patients, just unconscious personnel, (though none actually seemed to be injured, weirdly enough) and so they moved over to the left.

The first door they entered did not make an agonizing squeak when the began to push it, giving Henry pause. He glanced back at the girl, who seemed just as on edge as him, and then back at the door. She nodded, giving her go ahead.

The door quietly swung open, a figure in the middle of the room holding a can of sedative (the same one Henry was using a few days ago, before… here.) and shaking.

The door touched the wall with a soft _tap_.

The figure immediately turned, the can in front of him, ready to spray. Henry immediately recognized him, and put his hands up in a placating motion.

“Henry?” asked Charles, sounding drowsy and tense. He was wearing a hospital gown, his uniform nowhere in sight.

“that your friend?” the girl asked, nodding towards him.

Henry nodded in response to both, stepping into the threshold and striding towards Charles and then gently lowering the spray down. Charles dropped it without hesitation, falling forwards into Henry’s arms and nuzzling into the soft undershirt fabric at his shoulder.

Henry pulled him close, taking a quick look around the room for anything they could use to remedy their lack of warm clothing, especially considering that they would be traveling into snow soon. The girl tugged on his sleeve.

“what are we waiting for? Come on, let’s go before we’re caught.”

Henry shook his head at her, motioning to all of their states then to a wall that he knew faced the water. She paused and then gave a nod.

“Fair point, you want me to frisk some cabinets while you deal with…” she gave a _look_ to Charles’s nearly comatose self “that?”

He gave her a thankful nod before picking up Charles and depositing him on a bed, he went back and tucked the can into his back pocket, taking a quick glance around the room.

Six beds, each with a mobile curtain. The room wasn’t big, only a five second walk at most, at the other side (most distant from the door, he noted) was the girl, who was rummaging through a cupboard, it stuck him as a bit odd but he knew not to question what she wanted from there. He too was feeling the need to nick something off someone. Altogether the room didn’t look dissimilar from the one that he’d gone through in the base he was in earlier.

There looked to be a plastic bag filled with something of a cloth like texture, tissues? No there was a dust bin right next to the cabinets, maybe they’d put clothes in there?

He glanced back at Charles (who’d fallen asleep and was clutching a folded blanket close to his chest, it drove something awful warm into Henry’s chest.) and decided that it was worth checking.

He heard the girl rummaging in the back of the room, letting out a frustrated huff every once in a while. He tore open the bag- yup, just tissues. He sighed.

He moved on to another cabinet, this one was large enough to hold clothing, so maybe? He tried the handle and when he pulled-

 _clink_

There was a bolt lock. On the one day he didn’t have a lock pick on him. Perfect.

He looked around the room, what were the chances that they stored scalpels in there? _Henry had seen it pretty often in nurse’s offices as a child, always having a splinter or pen splinter stuck in him from all the fights he picked._

_It drove his mother up the wall, his father didn’t much care, too lost in whatever new thing he’d brought from his friend or at the bottom of a bottle. Henry would look around and watch as the nurses orbited around him, most of their tools would be-_

Henry turned to face the back of the room. Bingo. 

He strode on over, barely acknowledging the girl’s questioning look by motioning to the cabinets he’d failed to open. She nodded and went back to collecting painkillers, a few he recognized as having an unreasonably long shelf life. There was no familiar urge gnashing at his psyche.

It struck him as odd, that his body was so new compared to his first one. Was this his first one? He shrugged, that was an issue for future Henry to deal with. He scanned the open cabinet, standing on his toes to see the items right at the top. Ah, there they were.

“So…” the girl said to him, rising to her feet as he gathered a few scalpels and shoved them into his pant pockets “You’re Henry?”

He didn’t glance at her as he nodded. He walked back to the cabinet her was trying to unlock, shadowed by her footsteps.

“Um,” she said as they stopped, giving him a bit of a smile, “nice to meet you, I’m Ellie"

His eyes wandered over from his task at that, letting his body do the actions on autopilot, listening close all the same “Likewise.” He responds.

She nods at that. The door clicks open. Not their coats but what looked to be doctors winter attire, thick and padded but not woolen. He glanced over at Charles, still sleeping, his eyes were a little scrunched up from pain though.

He picked up two and walked back to Charles. He shook his shoulder gently, drawing a bleary-eyed and slightly angry gaze, _“what?”_.

He gave Charles an apologetic smile, gently propping him up to a seated position. Charles clutched his head in one hand, he swayed in his spot but his pupils didn’t seemed to be so unevenly dilated any more, though they certainly were still, to an extent.

He pulled Charles so that his legs dangled off the side of the bed and at Henry’s waist and pulled his head close so that it rested on Henry’s chest so that he’d had good leverage to put on the garment (there were domestic scenes shooting through his head, quiet afternoons, maybe they’d put on an old cassette and just sway together- he shut those thoughts behind a closed door. For right now Charles was likely concussed and they were captured.)

Henry guided Charles into the jacket, though it was significantly easier with Charles actually able to try and reciprocate the motion. He slid one zipper end into the other before pulling it closed with a soft _zzzzzzzzzip_.

He shoved his on, closing it too and gathered Charles back into his arms, this time bridal so as to shake him as little as possible. Charles put his arms around Henry and rested his head, promptly right back into unconsciousness.

Henry pretended not to see when Ellie shoved her bounty into the pockets of the jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE A REASON FOR BEING LATE THIS TIME!  
> I was writing a-adult fun time.
> 
> So uh, I can either publish it as it's own thing or we can have an ot3 and have this published later on, its up to y'all mainly because I have no real preference.
> 
> So uh, comment what you prefer!


	13. And out of the dragons maw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we find ourselves one spicy jalapeño lady and one theif man with the addition of sleepy unconscious spy man making their way outta the wall!

The girl- Ellie, her name was Ellie, walked in front of him, her eyes scanning the hall for any medical personnel that might have awoken, Henry adjusted Charles once more before walking to her side.

She tilted her head at him when she noticed his presence, motioning back to the maze with the guards and to Charles (who’s breath brushed Henry’s collar) with a raised brow. He hummed back, tilting his head too as he considered, they couldn’t really pull off what they had when they first came in, they couldn’t move too fast and were too bulky. 

“we could just walk through" Ellie says quietly, it draws an incredulous look from him but she stands her ground, “I mean, we are wearing their uniform.” She reasons.

He nods at that, they weren’t seen on their way in, the guards had no reason to suspect them, they’d be nothing more than medical personnel trying to leave a place that an attack had occurred at. The alibi held water, he nodded back to her with a soft, affirmative sound.

She rolled her shoulders back, closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. When her eyes opened again there was no trace of Ellie the thief, only a shaken nurse, Henry gave her an impressed glance, letting her take the lead into the maze.

She glanced around a corner and took quiet steps, looking around as if overwhelmed and terrified, walking forwards on what looked like shaky legs. Her hand grazed a box and it dropped with a deafening clang.  
The response was immediate, the two guards arriving with their pistols in front of them.

“Who’re you?” the woman, Maria(?) asked in a thin Russian accent, motioning to the group.

“I-I’m an intern ma’am, everyone else is unconscious ma’am” Ellie’s body shook, as she sobbed crocodile tears, clutching a hand to her chest. Henry gently bumped her and she took the cue and rest her head on his arm as though she needed support.

The man, Matvy(?) took pity, shooting glances at the woman, looking as though he felt guilty. “Come on Maria…” he said softly, urging.

She looks between them and her fellow guard, considering and looking skeptical. A final glance at Matvy breaks her resolve and she holsters her gun with a huff.

“I’ll go check it out" she says finally, walking past the trio.

“Do you know what happened?” the remaining guard asked quietly whilst he lowered his weapon. Henry quietly shakes his head, pulling Charles closer.

“Attacked" he responds quietly letting his voice grow heavy with exhaustion, “We think it was spy”

The guard nods at that, giving a pitying look to Charles, who’s bright blue bruise was particularly evident contrasted against the deep red collar of the otherwise black uniform.

“Don’t worry-" the guard finally says, taking a step forward, he pauses immediately when both Henry and Ellie flinch at the motion “Sorry”

“No,” Ellie replies, her voice thick “we’re just scared"  
The guard nods and doesn’t comment when Ellie takes a step away from Henry to lean on a shelf.

“Would you like something to drink?” the guard asks, holstering his weapon. Ellie gives him a thankful smile and a nod, Henry shakes his head. The guard turns his back to them.

Henry shoots a questioning glance to Ellie, she shakes her head and jerks a thumb in the direction of the medical offices, miming someone talking into a receiver. He nods in the direction of the exit and she tilts her head in question, motioning down to the unconscious body of Charles and raising a brow.

The guard returned with something hot, smelling distinctly meaty, probably a broth of some kind. He pauses at the exact distance he was previously, probably recalling their flinches, Henry almost felt bad for even considering knocking him out.

Ellie shakily approached him, glancing back at Henry every so often. Eventually she stood at arms length from him and he extended the broth-filled cup slowly towards her. Henry watches her take a careful glance at the guard before taking the cup and quickly backing away and hiding behind him.

The guard gives her a soft smile as she takes a shaky sip. Henry was quite impressed with her acting, if he hadn’t seen her choke a grown man out and loot the body he probably would have brushed her off as a non threat. 

He feels her pinch his arm through the jacket in the same moment he hears the other guard return. The guard huffs as though she had been running around, she glances at the trio with a suspicious look, sending the cup with broth an accusing glance.

“Matvy,” she says low and threatening “Why don’t you have your gun out?”

“Well Maria!” he replies alarmed, defensively putting his arms in front of him “they’re harmless-"

“You can’t know that!” her voice raises as she marches up to him, “what if _they are spies?_ ” 

Ellie burrows into his side slightly, playing up herself as a damsel in distress, sending the woman a terrified glance as Henry pretends to shield her.

“You’re scaring them!” Henry flinches at the sudden noise, immediately turning so that both Ellie and Charles would be covered by him in the event that bullets flew, the man glances over at that, “see?” 

The woman glances at their huddled forms, rubbing a hand over her face in what looked like a mix of frustration and wariness. “Fine, whatever," she throws her hands up, “But if this gets us killed, I am holding you responsible”

The man nodded, folding his arms over his chest, “fine.”

“Fine.” the woman responded with a finality in her tone.

Henry watched them cautiously, it was uncharted territory for him, he hadn’t even known that the wall was in contact with the army and he certainly hadn’t heard of Ellie his last time around. He rested his head against the wall and felt himself shake as the past three or so days, months even, finally began to take their toll. He didn’t need to fake the way his breathing sped up slightly.

\--

Ellie watched the man beside her cautiously, he’d proven trustworthy so far but she didn’t doubt that he could turn on her on a dime. It was why the sudden drop of his shoulders and the sheer weariness she read off of him caught her so off guard, he slumped to the wall, clutching his ‘friend' (hah, no one looked at their friends like _that_ ) close. She glanced over at the guards, who seemed preoccupied with picking up the mess she had made (though they hadn’t seen her nick a few of the flat sheets of metal. What? They could be useful later).

She cleared her throat as quietly as she could, taking another sip of the broth, it wasn’t drugged (though her first sip could have told her that had the sudden commotion not broken her concentration) but despite that she felt a bone deep tired.

It probably had to do with her earlier harnessing of the force, it wasn’t often that she moved anything more heavy than a standard necklace or ring or watch off of someone, let alone someone that was heavier than her. She rested against the wall too, her eyes scanning the room anxiously, it felt dangerous here.

The man slapped his thigh, dusting some, well, dust, off of his hand as he finished filling up the box making her jump a little, though Henry barely did instead closing his eyes a little. She knew she couldn’t rely on him if she needed to bolt and mentally cut her losses. 

“Hey,” the woman began, shelving the box, “we’ll be heading up, pick up will be arriving soon.”

“were they not meant to be here tomorrow?” the man responded, tilting his head.

“early arrival, don’t know why"

“huh, don’t know if I trust that.”

That draws a snort from the woman, “alright, pot" she turned her gaze over to Ellie “you, we’ll be heading up in a bit, finish up" she motioned to Ellie’s cup.

Ellie nodded, taking a quick few gulps and leaving Henry and Charles to return the cup to Matvy. Matvy gave her a smile and took it as she stuffed back, tensing her legs to play up her characters fear. The man backed away, slowly as though he was trying not to startle a small animal, she almost felt insulted.

He was only gone for a few moments, and for each second he was gone the woman’s gaze on them grew harsher, her fingers twitching and ready to reach down to her holster at the slightest wrong move. She watched Henry become a little more alert as he felt the hostility of the woman, guard raising again from where it had begun to sag.

Maybe he’d be able to hold his ground after all.

Matvy returned with a crackling, small two way radio, barely small enough for him to comfortably hold it in his palm, “they are saying to head up, leaving in fifteen minutes while army arrives.”

“They’re sending in the army?” the woman asks bewildered, glancing away from the trio for a moment, “I thought we could handle it.”

“Apparently not,” the man responded with a shrug, “someone broke out every inmate, already have patrol crew in the area for stragglers"

“Well, shit.” The woman runs a hand through her hair, “okay, okay. Let’s go then?”

Ellie watches Henry stand a bit taller, pulling away from the wall, eyes tired but sharp, very sharp. He had a plan and she didn’t quite trust it yet, either way it was better than the blank she’d been running on.

Matvy took the front, guiding their group into an elevator shaft (Ellie almost face plamed at the sight, because now that she was looking at it, it’s placement was obvious, the hallway, across the room from the stairs) and pressed a few buttons before entering the floor. A password?

She shook her head, earning a side glance from most everyone there, though their questioning didn’t continue.

The second the elevator pinged open was the second all hell broke loose. Shredded wire improvised into twisted stabbing implements, there seemed to be a standoff between a group of top hats (at least that’s what she thought they were called, she’d heard of them a few times when scouting out a few rich houses. Apparently, thief protocol was to avoid confronting them at all costs.) And there looked to be a few on the leftmost side that were doing lemming impressions to escape machine-gun fire.

She felt herself be shoved forward, Henry right after her, they shared a bewildered glance before sprinting (it was more speed walking for Henry), she watched him cautiously rush behind cover, trying not to shake his breathing cargo too much.

She glanced back at the elevator to see that both the man and woman had disappeared, vanishing. She ran a hand through her hair and looked on over at Henry, “so. What now?”

He rested Charles against his thigh, flinching as a bullet bounced off their cover, steel, glass and plastic flying overhead as they huddle close. Their cover was an overturned car, it wouldn’t last long, especially since he’d been hearing explosions in the distance since they’d exited the elevator. He takes a shaking breath, adrenaline giving him a new wind under his wings.

“Run" he says quietly to her, barely audible over the muted gunfire “need to get to a vehicle and run"

She looks over at him, glancing down at Charles then back up to him, “And after that?”

He looks away at that, instead scanning their surrounding area, he hears her sigh.

“yeah,” she murmurs, barely more than a breath “are we expecting anyone to come after us?”

His eyes turn back to her at that, he chews on his bottom lip, contemplating. He had a target on him with the Toppats still, maybe the army if they didn’t drop Charles off, nothing too surprising, it was rather uncommon to see the wall take in people who didn’t have a government on their trail. “Toppats and US army" he replies.

“Huh,” she runs a hand through her hair “US army and the hall of angels"

“not allowed in South America?”

“hah, not anymore, stole a few million from one of their chiefs, barely escaped with my skin into America then Canada, you?”

“Army wants me for something, Toppats got a grudge, stole from them"

“awful ballsy”

He hums an affirmative in response.

She nudges his arm, drawing his attention to an unattended motorcycle, and raising a brow in question. They wouldn’t need to move out of their cover except for a meter stretch, where one person could grab it and mount, only the tip of their skull visible whilst they saddle in, at most one of them would end up with a gash on their scalp if they made it through the exposed gap. He shrugs, crouching and shifting Charles into a proper carry should they need to run. 

They shuffle forward, tense, shrapnel slices open Henry’s cheek, though he finds that neither of his companions had been hit, probably a stray. The back of his neck itches and he wishes he could cover it, cover the whole of his spine, cover all of Charles’s on the off chance it struck.

Charles mattered more though. So, so much more.

They reach the vehicle with no further resistance, Ellie pauses at the gap, looming between them and their escape. She picks up a piece of debris and chuck’s it forward, wincing when it is immediately bullet ridden. 

She looks back at him, rubbing a cold hand across her face, letting out a soft and mirthless chuckle.

“Fuck" he hears her say, muffled into her palm, he hears her take a soft breath and slump back against their cover, looking as though she was indecisive.

“I could use the force but I’d probably be knocked out after that.” She says after a further minute, likely spurred on by the daylight they were losing. He nods in response, it was either death or that, both knew it. 

They share a glance and she lets out a shaky sigh, “I’m trusting you here," she says finally, “I will strangle you with the force if you dare try anything, got it?” she gives him a harsh glare and it struck Henry and he understood exactly what she meant.

She’d be stuck alone with two men, without any back up, and her only other choice would be to be put into solitary confinement with several guards who wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of that fact. He’d be damn terrified too.

He gives her a steadfast nod.

She bolts forward, time seems to freeze for them, bullets catch in the air as though caught in ballistic gel and Ellie’s hands reached the handles, she kicks the break up in a fluid motion and shoves both herself and the vehicle back into safe territory.

She slumps and falls into the snow.

There was no beat of hesitation, he yanks her up, settling her and Charles in front of him on the bike, and though they can barely fit, he manages.

The bike roars to life, rumbling low below him.

He hits the pedal, rushing past Wall vehicles, cars and other motorbikes and immediately plunging into the snow, there was no rumble of another motorcycle that would show that they’d been followed.

\--

He didn’t stop, not until they were hidden by dense evergreen foliage deep into the night, dense leaf litter on the ground, his arms and thighs ache from holding them as rigidly as he could so at to encase his precious cargo. At the sight of a cave he almost faints in relief, throat parched and stomach empty, that didn’t matter though.

He leaves them on the bike, adjusting them just so, so they wouldn’t slip.

He enters the mouth of the cave, ready to bolt if need be, but there is no expected bear or wolf pack, only the quiet dripping of water in the back of the cave. It’s entrance was small enough to block out the worst of the wind and the loose leaf litter would do well to keep them off of the cold floor. 

Out of precaution he walks further back into the cave to find that it grew warmer, to the point that the rocks almost hurt his aching, cold hands with the sudden burst of it, _”There are actually hotsprings near the base here, though they’re pretty hard to find and pretty rare" the Charles in his mind mutters, “though you’d have to be pretty lucky to find one"_

Henry’s cheeks ache from the grin that near splits them, he rushes outside, finding the motorcycle quickly, even if the color is almost camouflaged in the waning moon’s light. He grabs it by the handles and stays everything into the cave.

When they reach about halfway in he stops pulling, instead he picks up Charles, then Ellie and places them so that their backs and legs all touch warm stone, if only to stave off hypothermia, though it probably hadn’t had a chance to set in since they were all still shivering.

He finds the space between them, the stone ever so slightly colder and rests his head on his arm, finally letting his mind go quiet.

Sleep doesn’t find him until he sees the first rays of sunlight, peering shyly into the cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So anyway, since i have exams and I wanna get into university y'all might not get an update in the next 14-17 days, but I will be uploading the, uh, porn as a separate work if I can't put up a chapter in the next 7-10.
> 
> So uh, here, I guess.
> 
> Also, does russia even have hotsprings?

**Author's Note:**

> I am going to eat my shoes one of these days, I swear. Everytime I listen to Charles voice it makes me cry, I'm simping so hard yo!
> 
> Also feel free to post ideas in the comments if y'all have any, they'll probably be included.
> 
> Also will be randomly editing chapters, so some things that might be convoluted when the chap first goes up will be fixed up at a later date


End file.
